Remember You
by CallMeAlyKat
Summary: "You know, I didn't fall for her gradually, hell, I was never aware that I was falling for her in the first place! It was like one moment, I hated the very ground that she walked on, and the next, I didn't anymore. Not in the least. And then it hit me, like a bludger to the head- I loved her long before I knew I did." AU. Dramione. DMHG R&R!
1. Chapter One--Present

**A/N: Hi guys! Hope you enjoy this story! It's ****AU. Ignore the sixth and seventh books completely. Set six years after they graduate from Hogwarts.**

**NOT A GHOST STORY**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK does. I wish I did though.**

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CHAPTER ONE - PRESENT_  
_

His fingers slid through the piano keys smoothly, familiar and nimble as he softly played Debussy's Clair de lune. It was one of the most famous muggle peices that he knew. It was also his favorite piece- the melody that struck him the most. It was the melody that made him feel everything and nothing all at once. It was the melody that reminded him of her.

His playing grew rough as the memories of her smile flashed through her mind. Somewhere in his humungous empty flat, he heard her delicate whispers. It was barely audible, but not loud enough to be understood. He smelled her scent, a mixture of parchment and vanilla and something else. She smelled like that no matter the weather, even if she was standing in the pouring rain or sweating heavily from running. The smell comforted and agitated him at the same time. A mixture of orange and apple flavors erupted on his tongue- her taste. He felt warm hands press down on his shoulders, making him tense and relax at the same time.

She had always made him feel contradictory feelings at the same time. She was a paradox.

But she was a paradox that he could no longer reach.

He finished the piece, breathing heavily from playing so harsh. He reached out towards the bottle of scotch placed on the table, but he found it empty. He started to panic, knowing that without the alcohol. His mind would never sustain the apparition that he had conjured. Without the alcohol, he wouldn't be able trick himself into believing that she was still there. Without the alcohol, she would fade. Then he would remember.

He threw the bottle at the far side of the room, making a dozen pictures placed on the mantle fall and crash to the floor. He glanced at them, not caring, but a flash of her smiling face amongst the debris was enough to make him rush towards the wreckage in an instant. He didn't care about the glass shards puncturing his knees as he bent over to brush off the dirt from the picture. He sat down, on the broken glass and splintered frames, staring at the photograph.

He didn't remember putting it up. He didn't remember putting up anything in this house, really. When he moved back here in London six months ago, he didn't bother setting up anything. He hadn't even bothered to unpack, but when Blaise and Pansy heard about the move, they had marched to the door and plastered every surface with stupid decorations.

It was a photo of them, but she was the focus of the scene. It looked like a shot taken on the start of school feast during their seventh year. He was looking at her, frowning slightly and eyebrows drawn in vapid concentration. Even then, before everything had happened, she had intrigued him. The picture was proof of how much she had baffled him. She on the other hand, was smiling happily. Smiling that damned smile that made him want to smile fondly to or curl up and cry.

The pain of her loss hit him strongly as the effects of the alcohol started to wear out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He whispered gruffly, his voice cracking and his eyes releasing a torrent of tears.

He wiped away the droplets of salty tears from her face, gripping the picture tightly as he curled up while his body was rocked with sobs. He struggled to breathe, crumpling the photograph from the strength of his grasp.

"I hate it when you cry." Her voice said from somewhere above him. Frail fingers ruffled his already messy hair. "Stop that. I hate seeing you like this."

"_You're_ the reason why I'm like this."

"You were always so dramatic." Her voice whispered softly, the hint of sarcasm that he had loved was evident in her tone. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"You know that I can't help it." He sobbed.

He felt hands stroke his arms and tucking his hair behind his ear. "Oh, you git," Her voice said sadly, but there was a hint of fondness there. "Look up, love."

"No."

"Please." Her voice begged, and he felt warm hands gently tug his hair.

"Stop that." He snapped, gripping his knees tighter. "I said no."

The tugging stopped, instead he felt the hands slide down from his hair towards his arms, rubbing them softly, and resting them on top of his hands.

"Love, look at me." Frustration edged her tone, the same edge that she got when she was having trouble with her homework. A surge of sadness went through him.

"I won't."

"Why, love?" She asked softly, sadness lacing every syllable. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Because," he whispered ruefully, "You'll disappear if I do. You always do."

"This time, I won't. I promise."

"You've never kept your promises."

"I do." She protested, her hands now over his. "I keep my promises."

"No. No you don't." He sobbed softly. "You left. Even though you _promised_ not to. That was the most important promise that you broke. You _left_. You left me here to rot."

He felt her hesitation, almost as if it was real. Her thumbs run circles on the back of his hand, just as she always did before. Her breath caressed his cheeks as she leaned in closer. He felt soft lips touch his ears as she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I am." She insisted. "Look up, love. Look at me."

His resistance was fading, his grip was relaxing. He knew that he was about to relinquish. He never could resist her. His body was aching for a look. A glance. A moment of seeing her outside his dreams. He was caving. And he knew that she did too.

"_Draco_, please."

Her voice cracking and saying his name was enough to make him stop trembling. He let out a slow breath, after which, he made sure that he could still feel her there. To somehow check if she hadn't left. To see if she was still there. She was.

He looked up.

She wasn't there.

The alcohol's buzz faded for good and the realization of her absence hit him with as much intensity as the first time. He hated this moment, when he realized that none of it was real. But it was worth a few seconds of talking to her, a few moments of feeling her touch, a few stolen lungfuls of her peculiar scent.

And with feeling her absence came the even more crippling realization of why she was gone.

He would remember.

He would remember that she was dead.

It was exactly 5 years and 364 days since she died. Almost six years of misery. Six years of trying to function instead of trying to live.

Six damned years.

He sat up groggily, picking out the glass shards from his injured knees and limping towards the bathroom. He glanced at the clock; 6:57. He might as well forgo sleep and head early to work. Sleep would just bring dreams and dreams would mean seeing her and seeing her would mean going all through that pain of separation again.

It was still dark in his humungous flat. He never drew the curtains apart, knowing that seeing the place in full brightness would just reminded him of the life that they could have had. It was decorated with dozens of pictures- Pansy and Blaise's doing. Those two idiots never did know the boundaries of friendship. But he was grateful for their presence. They were the only ones who knew how much he grieved - and still grieves- over her death.

After her death, he had been a shell of a person, but they never did give up on him. Comforting him, shouting at him, hell, even bribing him to at least stop moping. His depression somewhat lifted, though only because Blaise reminded him that she wouldn't want him to act like a zombie, but he never really stopped moping. Even now, they were still trying to get him to stop. They were idiots, but he appreciated their efforts.

He folded the photo and placed it on top of a shelf as he grabbed a towel and ducked in the bathroom. Warm water coursed through him, waking him up and clearing his thoughts. He lathered himself, scrubbing over the wounds and letting his thoughts wander. Nights like these were common. But he preferred it to the nights that he dreamed. At least, these drunken hallucinations were hazy, less corporeal. In his dreams, she was as real as real could be. He dreamt of lifetimes with her. And it always, always ended with him waking up. But every night was the same, even if he dreamed or if he'd stay up all night drinking. When the night ends, she would be gone. And the pain would resurface, getting stronger and sharper with each passing day.

Sometimes, he wished that it would stop. But he never could resist the temptation of feeling her, hearing her, smelling her, seeing her again. He would try to stop dreaming, to avoid drinking, but in the end he would rather feel the sting of pain and the stab of guilt again and again and again, if it meant that he could spend moments with her.

Six years after her death, he was still so whipped. He was still trying to catch her. He still refused to give up.

He was an idiot.

But he hardly cared. After all, all of it could somehow relate to her. And for him, he would rather act like a savant than forget about her. Even if it meant living in a world where she wasn't by his side. In a world where every little thing would remind him of the sting of the past.

He stepped out of the shower, feeling significantly more alert than he had been fifteen minutes ago. He took the picture, placing it on his bedside table, by his briefcase as he pulled on a set of suit-robes and knotted his tie. It was Gryffindor red. He snorted at this, frowning sadly. Another reminder of her. It was amazing how much every little thing and gesture made him think of her, made him remember her.

He shook his head, trying to clear his already wandering thoughts. He picked up the photograph, intending to put it inside the briefcase, to tuck it in between the dozens of files.

He sighed, tracing the contours of her face softly. "Granger, stop driving me _crazy_. It's been six years, and I'm still pining for you. Damn it, woman." Photograph-Hermione laughed and smiled brighter. He shook his head, folding the photo and tucking it in his breast pocket instead. He let out a quiet breath, reminding himself of why he even bothered to get up in the mornings.

'_It's all for her. You can do this. This is what she would want_.' He told himself, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his grip on the briefcase.

It was a new day. He was expected at work. _She_ would expect him to go to work. She would expect him to live a normal life. And of course he would try to live like that, after all, it was what she wanted.

He always strove to do what she wants. _Always_.

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**A/N: There you have it, guys! Hope it intrigued you! :) I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can :D**

**THIS IS NOT A GHOST STORY :)**


	2. Chapter Two--Flashback

**DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. JK's. :)  
**

**A/N: Okay, so first of all, let me explain how I've written the storY. You see, there are chapters in the present, and chapters set in the past. These are all in Draco's P.O.V., unless stated otherwise :) feel free to review your questions and correct me if there's anything off about it! Thanks! :)**

**I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, Shivani, and Annabeth-Artemis, thank you so much for the reviews! **

**I know that I should have posted this last week, but I was busy with college stuff! I'm really really really sorry! This is just an in-between chappie :) love you guys! :)**

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CHAPTER TWO-FLASHBACK  
September 1, 1998

"Hermione, Hermione! Look at me!" Ronald Weasley's booming voice echoed throughout the already noisy Great Hall. Dozens of heads turned towards the redhead's direction, just in time to see him balance two silver spoons on his ginormous nose and Hermione rolling her eyes at him.

"Poor bloke." Blaise said, chuckling at the sight. He glanced at Draco, meeting his eyes, before looking back at the pair, "Been trying to catch her attention for years and she still thinks he's an imbecile."

"Who ever said that Weasel wasn't an imbecile?" Draco said, smirking at the redhead and the brunette who was currently ignoring the said redhead. "He should stop being so idiotic. Heaven knows that being an ill-mannered blundering fool isn't the key to that little goody-two-shoe beaver heart."

Blaise snorted, almost spewing all of his pumpkin juice onto his meal. "So you're saying that you know how to get Hermione Granger? Legendary for her strong wits and even _stronger_ chastity belt?"

"No chastity belt is strong enough for me." Draco winked, smirking even deeper. "Not that I'd even go for that mudblood. Too low class for me."

"No one is good enough for you, Drake, as you always say." Blaise snorted, but then he smiled sneakily. "But that has never stopped you from sleeping with anything who has two legs."

"Blaise, that's Granger, one third of the Gryffindor Golden trio of stuck-up saints, know-it-all bookworm beaver and goody-two-shoe." Draco scoffed, raising an eyebrow and glaring pointedly at his best friend. "Any of the things that I've just stated would be enough reason for any self respecting Slytherin to stay clear away from her."

"Apparently, it doesn't stop Nott." Blaise smirked. The Italian glanced at their dark housemate. "A little birdie told me that he's got his eye on her."

"Since when?" Draco frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Nott likes Granger? How could he have missed that?

"Uhh, I dunno, around sixth year? Vector assigned them as partners in Arithmancy, since then, Nott's been giving Granger the goo goo eyes."

Sixth year? Again, how could he have missed that? He thought to himself. Glaring at the dark haired Slytherin. How could he? How could he betray their house by crushing on a mudblood. He had spent years campaigning against her, making sure that no Slytherin crossed the line and went on to even look at the mudblood. He spent hours cajoling and threatening anyone who ever expressed that she was noticeable, much less attractive! He'd been trying to save his housemates by making sure that they stayed away from her, and here was Nott, crossing the line that he had religiously drawn.

"Draco, Draco," Blaise called from beside him, breaking his glaring marathon and distracting him from your thoughts. "Earth to Draco. I don't get why you're so pissed, everyone knows that Theo doesn't have the balls to ask her out."

"But he's _crushing_ on the _mudblood_. If it was up to me, he'd get kicked out of Slytherin."

"You would kick anyone out of our house if you find out that the bloke just looked at her for a second too long." Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

"Of course I would." Draco scoffed. "No one respectable should even look at that piece of filth too long or-"

"Students, settle down, please." Dumbledore said as he rose to his winged owl podium. The whole hall quieted as the old man spoke. "I know that you're all tired from the journey and the food, but there is one more important announcement that I have to say. And that is the assignment of our Head Boy and Girl!"

Everyone erupted in a flurry of whispers. Everyone knew who the Head Girl would be. It was obvious that it was Granger. Mcgonagall would probably have a coronary if she wasn't chosen for the position. It was the Head Boy that was worth the deliberation. Everyone knew that Dumbledore favored Potter, but Malfoy was the second in their class, and Nott had served as Slytherin prefect since his fifth year, when Malfoy had only received the position in their Sixth Year.

"Who do you reckon that it would be?" Pansy asked from across the table.

"Most likely Potter. The old bat would lick his shoes if Potter asked him to." Pucey answered, glaring disgustedly at Potter.

"It could be Nott, he's been prefect longer." Goyle said. Everyone glanced at Nott, who looked like he was praying, or just constipated.

Blaise glanced at Draco, who was strangely quiet and facing away from the rest of the group. "What about you, Drake. You think you'd get the position?"

The blonde shrugged, giving the Italian one of his signature smirks. He turned his attention to Dumbledore, who was currently congratulating Hermione Granger, who was standing with him on the podium.

He couldn't wait to see their faces when the old bat calls his name.

During the summer, Mcgonagall had owled him about the position offer. He immediately accepted of course, seeing as it was another achievement to brag about.

"And now, for our Head Boy," Dumbledore said with glee. "Everyone, give a round of applause for our very own, Draco Malfoy!"

It would be an understatement to say that everyone's jaw dropped.

Amused, Draco strode towards the podium, eliciting disbelieving glances and in the shocked silence, his footsteps echoed loudly. He loved being Head boy already.

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"Professor, I thought that _Theo_ was supposed to be a candidate Head Boy!" Hermione Granger protested as soon as the three of them - Draco, Hermione, and Mcgonagall- were out of ear shot from the rest of the student body.

Draco frowned, "I never knew that you were so chummy chummy with Nott."

He had to do something about that, he thought darkly, following the two females up a hidden spiral bound staircase.

"Unlike a certain blonde ferret, at least Theo's been nothing but nice! Why did you replace him with _him_?"

"Miss, Granger, Mr. Malfoy deserves this position more than Mr. Nott, Miss Granger." The older witch snapped, leading them towards a painting at the end of a window-filled hall. Draco smirked at her and Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "The Headmaster's decision is final. I suggest that you two find ways to get along, we don't want to tell the school that the Head Boy and Girl murdered each other, now, do we?"

"Yes, Professor." They chorused.

"Good." Mcgonagall turned towards the suit of armor situated at the end of the hall. "Now, this is sir William the Weedkiller, he will safe guard your tower from people who aren't welcome. The password for this month is 'Kelpie'."

They neared the statue. Draco glanced at Hermione, who was still crossing her arms in subtle defiance, but there was also defeat in her posture. He smirked. He was going to make Granger's life a living hell. He had a feeling that he was going to be so happy this year. So, so happy.

"Who goes there?" The booming voice from the suit of armor called out, pointing his rusted sword towards the group.

"I bring the Head Boy and Girl."

"Password?"

"Kelpie."

"You may pass." With that, the knight withdrew his sword and stepped sideways, a spiral staircase slowly emerged from the ceiling, right to where the knight once stood.

Hermione glanced at Draco, only to find that he was looking at her. They both exchanged surprised expressions, but they seem to catch themselves at the same time. They frowned at each other and pointedly looked away.

"Follow me." The professor said, clutching the railing of the staircase. It started to move on its own accord, bringing the professor up into the ceiling.

"Beavers first, mudblood." Draco whispered snidely. Hermione scoffed at him and stepped daintily onto the first step. He soon followed after her.

The room that they had came into was lavish and grand, the ceiling reaching to about three floors in height. It was expansive and circular, with bookshelves lining most of the wall, save for the area above the fireplace, where a giant moving stained glass window stood. The current scene was that of the night sky, but the glass kept shifting and changing to form other landscapes, and sometimes, people. In front of the fireplace, there was a large plush sofa, along with two armchairs. In the center of the room, there were two desks, facing each other and identical, save for the nameplates on each one. But the most breath taking part was the ceiling. Draco had not noticed it before, but he saw that it was enchanted to reflect the pitch black sky outside.

"You're probably having a heart attack right now, Granger." He smirked as he saw the awed and longing look that Hermione was directing towards the shelves. "What with all the books in here. Professor, I don't think that you'd ever get her out of here again."

Mcgonagall shot him a bemused look. "Play nice, Mr. Malfoy." She chastised. He rolled his eyes and glanced at Hermione, who was still lost in dream land. Mcgonagall coughed and they both shifted their attention away from the room and towards her. "This room, is your common room. You will be doing Heads business here. All your of your paperwork will be delivered and taken from your desk every wednesday of each week. All of the books here are copies of the ones we have at the library, save for the restricted ones. Your kitchen, if you ever deem to use it, is downstairs. Pull the small blue book from the seventh bookshelf panel, and a trapdoor will open towards it. Your rooms are upstairs. Miss Granger, you can use the twelfth panel staircase, Mr. Malfoy, you get the seventeenth. You should pick a book to select as your password of sorts. Tickle the spine twice to assign a book. Then, you only need to place your palm fully on the spine to make the panels slid down. You step on the top and when the panel slides up, you'll find yourselves in your rooms."

"What's with all the security features, Professor?" Hermione asked, eyes widening at the complicatedness of it all.

"Let's just say that the Head boy and girl positions were very coveted back in the day. Sometimes, some witches and wizards would stoop very low to get them, hence the out of proportion security measures."

"Oh."

"What about the bathroom?" Draco asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

"Panel two, the blue book identical to the one used for the kitchen. The bathroom would be very much like the prefects one, albeit much larger and grand. There is only one bathroom in the tower, so you two have to share."

"Share a bathroom with -"

"Malfoy?!" Hermione screeched, the same time as Draco said, "Beaver!?"

"No." They chorused.

Professor Mcgonagall eyed them sharply. "You don't have a choice."

"But-"

Mcgonagall raised a hand, silencing the two. "No buts. Now, for your duties." The Deputy Headmistress fixed them a stern stare. "The two of you are in charge of drawing up the prefect schedule, which, I believe, miss Granger has already submitted and had the Headmaster approve of-"

"Show off." Draco muttered under his breath, which made the brunette glare at him.

"-Both of you are also in charge of future parties, whenever the school deems to throw them. You also have the liberty of taking and giving points to other students. Prefect Meetings will be held on thursday nights, but you can call them whenever necessary. You would also need to do rounds together thrice a week, aside from your normal prefect rounds. Any questions?"

"Professor, what about our friends? Can we invite them inside the tower."

"Yes, you may, but only ones of the same gender are allowed into your rooms. The spell that forbids people of the different sex to enter your rooms don't work on yourselves. In the past, the wards were there, seeing as you are both teenagers and therefore hormonal-" they both indignantly blushed at this, "-but it was abolished during the 1960s, when one of the students had sudden convulsions in their room and their counterpart couldn't save them because he couldn't go inside her room. It was a tragic year. She died before the head boy could bring madame Pomfrey back. Hence, the exemptions. I trust that you will not abuse them, yes?"

"Of course we won't, Professor."

"Good, now, I'll leave you be. Remember, we want you to act like the civilized adults that you are. No maiming and fatal hexing." With that, the professor pulled a black book from the first bookcase panel beside the fireplace and disappeared down the secret stairwell.

"You're a git, and an asshole, and positively horrid to me," Hermione said as she turned to Draco, frowning and crossing her arms. "I don't care that you're almost as smart as I am, or that you can break me in two without even trying. I can defend myself from you, Malfoy. Don't ever think other wise. But the Professor is right. I'm supposed to be working with you, not being aggravated to the point where I find myself plotting ways to kill you."

"Wow, you really can compliment a bloke, mudblood." He said sarcastically, and he saw him flinch at the word. Good. He still has an effect on her, he thought smugly. "Don't worry, I think that you're a prissy, stuck up, know-it-all who is a pain in my ass too. But I also don't want to be thinking mean nasty thoughts about killing you, all the time."

"We should stop calling each other names and-"

"But I like calling you mudblood!"

"-and we should minimize the insults."

"Alright. But Potter and Weasley isn't and would never be, part of this truce."

Hermione bristled, but she nodded all the same. "Well, we've reached an agreement. Truce?"

"Yes, truce." Hermione stuck out her hand, and in a fit of deranged disregard for his overall cleanliness, Draco took the said hand and shook it. Electricity surged between them, and they both let go at the same time.

Awkward silence filled the room, until Hermione said, "Well, I'm going to sleep now. Good night uhh, Malfoy."

He nodded and he sat on one of the armchairs, collapsing. He heard the swoosh of the bookshelf ascending back to it's place, taking the muggleborn out of sight and hearing.

He'd had a long night, but there was one more thing to do. Report to his father.

He took some of he specialized floo powder that Lucius had instructed him to use before hand and sprinkled some into the almost dying embers of the common room fire. He glanced at the Stained glass window, glaring at it as he saw two figures, which creepily enough, looked like him and Granger.

"Creepy window, creepy people." He shuddered. He was not a fan of stained glass windows. Ever since he accidentally charmed the ones in his room to show nightmares every night, he had hated them with a passion. Well, with as much passion as a four year old could have hoped to achieve.

Over the years, he had forgotten his fear, but something about the window creeped him out.

"Draco." His father's voice boomed throughout the room. "Anything new?"

"Nothing much. Granger is as insufferable as ever. She was annoying before, but now, it's like she's been made to be my personal hell. I don't understand why the school chose her and not some other bimbo. I would have settled for anyone, but no. The old fart chose her. Well, she is the smartest in our year, but she's also-"

"Son, do you never stop talking about this mudblood?" His father cut him off. He resisted the urge to berate the senior Malfoy for calling Hermione mudblood. He was the only one allowed to call him that.

"But she never stops being someone worth complaining about! I don't know how Potter and Weasel stands it-being near that monstrosity all the time. But they practically worship the ground that she walks on. Idiots."

"They do?" Lucius raised a questioning eyebrow. He knew that the mudblood and Potter was close, but not that close.

"Yes. I don't think that they'd would have passed first year if it wasn't for her. Without the mudblood, those two wouldn't know left from right."

"I see. Very interesting news indeed." His father nodded, seemingly distracted. "I am needed elsewhere. Continue keeping your eye on the mudblood."

And with that the elder Malfoy's head turned and disappeared.

Draco stood up and picked up a chestnut-colored book on his own bookshelf panel. He smirked, stroking the spine. It was the exact same color as Granger's hair, who would expect him to pick it? Another stroke of brilliance, you handsome bloke you, he thought to himself, chuckling slightly as he stepped onto the top of the bookshelf.

There were so many things to do, with so little time. He was expected to keep up his grades, with his position as Quidditch Captain, and being Head boy, he was going to be swamped this year.

But, first things first. He had to make Nott stop liking Granger. It was Draco's duty to his fellow Slytherins after all. It was only right to keep them from making the wrong choices.

He grinned evilly as he neared the ceiling.

He was going to make Nott regret that he ever looked at Granger.

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**A/n: There you go! Don't forget to review, guys! I'd really appreciate it! :) did you guys feel how protective Draco is of her, without realizing it himself? It was tricky making him feel all of those possessive thoughts without him realizing it! hope you guys liked it!**


	3. Chapter Three--Present

**A/n: Here you go, guys! This is just an informatory chapter, I would have scrapped this, but I need it. So yeah, I promise you that the next chapter would have more Dramion moments! :)**

**angelica8051- no, _you _are amazing! Thank you :)**

**Annabeth-Artemis- Thank you! :D**

**I'llCatchYouIfYouFall- Aww shucks, thanks! :D**

**You all recieve cyber Dramione hugs and kisses! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot belongs to JK :)**

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CHAPTER THREE-PRESENT

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy." His new secretary piped from behind her desk. "You have an appointment with the Chief Healer in the Magical Injuries department at 10. This afternoon, you need to meet with Healer Yuri, and you also need to check up on the new cures that the Potions Department just developed."

"That's all for today?"

"Yes sir." The secretary answered, fumbling with her pen. He nodded at her and strode towards his office.

At 23, Draco Malfoy was already the Head Healer of St. Mungo's. When the board of directors voted him for the position two years ago, he had received endless criticisms and a lot of the wizards he had worked with protested against his age and his definitely questionable past endeavors. But there was no denying the fact that he was the best of the best. He surpassed all of his older peers and colleagues in almost every field, plus his greatly honed business-oriented intuition made the hospital earn more in the past two years than it had had in the last decade.

After her death, he had been a wreck, well, a much worse wreck than what he was now. One night, maybe a month after she had passed, he was walking across a deserted bridge, pissed drunk and screaming at the top of his lungs for his own death to come. That night, he walked in on a man about to bleed to death, there was blood everywhere, and multiple stab cuts on his back indicated that if he wasn't brought to a hospital soon, he wouldn't survive.

Drunk Draco didn't even think about the consequences of healing the man. He didn't know if the unconscious man was part of the wizarding community, or if he was a muggle. The only thing that he was thinking about was that she would _want_ him to heal this man. It came as a surprise when he felt soft hands on his shoulders, exactly the way she had done when she wanted to reassure him. He whipped out his wand, battle instincts developed over his seventh year made his control strong, even though he was so drunk that he couldn't walk straight. Immediately, he healed the man, and he felt such a rush at doing so.

That was the first time that he felt her presence. He never actually did feel her physically again, whenever he was healing another person. He could only ever do so when he was drunk - but whenever he healed someone else, he felt like she was giving him approval.

Saving people felt like he was saving _her_.

Saving people made him feel as if it was her that he had helped. He felt as if the number of lives that he had preserved would somehow bring her back. He felt that through saving these faceless people, he was being given a chance to save her.

He knew that it was dumb, but it did not stop him, nonetheless.

The next day, after the encounter, Draco signed up for a rigorous four-year healer training program and graduated in just a year and a half. He specialized in healing immediate fatal wounds. It was a course that should have taken him three years to finish, but it only took him a year. Although she had always beat him in classes, he was still a certified genius, after all. At nineteen going on twenty, he interned at St. Mungo's, where, three months after his initial acceptance, he was elevated to the Healer position. Nine months earlier than even the earliest acceptances. At twenty, he was one of the Department Heads of the hospital. At twenty-one, he was the Head Healer.

A lot of people questioned his motives, wondering why someone who had caused so much destruction before he had even reached seventeen worked so hard. Some said that it was to regain his obviously tattered family reputation. Some said that it was his way to give back to the world that he had almost destroyed. Some say that he had just found something that he was good at.

But none of them guessed that it was all for her.

He was top now. The best. First place.

He would have given all of his money to get his place as _second_ to her back.

He would have given _everything_ that he had if it meant that it would bring her back.

He sat down on his leather chair, frowning at the stack of paper work settled neatly on top of his desk. He took out the picture from his briefcase, smoothing out the wrinkles and placing it softly on top of the polished wood surface.

So far, it was the only picture of them that at least captured a margin of how much he felt for her. Smiling sadly, he examined her face, remembering every detail that he could conjure from his memory. He hated that he needed this photo to remind him of her wistful expression, when he himself had vowed that he would commit every minuscule detail of her to memory. He hated how he couldn't recall her dreamy sighs, or her expression when he managed to surprise her. He hated himself for forgetting, when he had promised to her that he would always remember her.

He hated that the details that was part of the complicated equation that was Hermione Granger slipped his mind.

"Sir?" His secretary said, poking her head timidly through the door. "Someone's here to see you."

"Tell whomever it is to schedule an appointment. I don't do walk ins."

"I told him that, sir, but he wouldn't take no for an answer." His secretary bit her lip, before continuing, "He said to tell you to, 'Stop being a bloody wanker and let me in.' Err, his words, not mine."

"You're new here, aren't you?" Draco asked, eyeing her with disinterest.

"Yes, sir, I just came in yesterday. They told me that they already told you about me."

"Well, that explains why you don't know him." Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. He had a good guess that he knew the identity of the idiot that decided to ask for his attention at such an ungodly hour. "Is he tall and Italian? Flirts a lot?"

"Err... Yes, sir." His secretary said reluctantly, fixing him a baffled gaze.

"Let him in."

She disappeared, and within a few moments, Blaise Zabini came storming through his doors.

"New secretary, mate?" The Italian asked, leaning on Draco's desk and ignoring the death glare that the blonde was giving him. "I liked the last one better. This one's all shy and timid-no fun at all."

"Might I ask why you're disturbing me so early in the morning?" Draco drawled, still glaring at his friend. Blaise was always so annoying in the morning. "For all you know, a kid could be dying because I'm not there to operate on him because you're wasting my time and annoying me."

"Oh come on, mate." Blaise said, moving to sir on the high backed wooden chair in front of Draco's desk. "You never have rounds in the morning. And can't you replace these chairs, they're killing my butt. I hate coming to your office and having to sit on these butt-death-traps."

"That's exactly why I keep them around." Draco smirked. "Now, why are you here again? I know that it's not a tuesday. You always bother me on tuesdays."

"Can't a chap just want to see his best friend?" Blaise said, feigning innocence. "You know I seldom see you! And I-"

"Cut the crap, Zabini." Draco cut him off. "Spill it."

"Well..." The italian said, suddenly nervous. But then he regained his happy tone and demeanor and said, "I got you a date!"

"No."

"But Drake! She's-"

"I said _no_."

"Come on! You've been holing yourself in here for the-"

"Past five years, I know. And I plan to make that arrangement permanent."

"Drake! Think about it! When was the last time that you dated? Ever since she died you haven't as much as _looked_ at another female!"

"So? I don't give a damn about other females! I don't even know why we're arguing about this. You know my answer!"

Blaise quieted for a moment, before saying, int he softest of whispers that Draco almost didn't hear, "She would have wanted you to move on, you know."

"I know." He said, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. They had talked about the possibility of having to leave each other during the war. They knew that the odds of their survival was minuscule. What with him being a defected death eater and her one of the most prominent figures fighting in the order.

_If... If I die in this war, I want you to find someone else, okay? Someone who would make you happy. Someone you can love again._

Those were her exact words.

It was her only request that he couldn't bring himself to do.

How could he even find someone to love, when her death took away his capability of doing so ever again?

"I... I _can't_ Blaise." Draco said, voice void of emotion, as empty as he felt. "I know that even if I try, I won't find anyone that could even live up to her _shadow_."

"There are plenty other females out there, Drake! Plenty to help you forget-"

"But can't you understand that I _don't_ want to forget?!" He screamed. Anger and frustration coursing through him. "I _refuse_ to forget!"

"It's been years, Drake." Blaise said, voice straining and looking at Draco with pitying eyes. "You have to get over her."

"Five. It's been five years and 364 days, to be exact." Draco sighed, calming down and placing his head on his desk. He stared at the photo of them together sadly. "I'm not over her, Blaise. The past five years would prove that I _never_ will be."

"You can. You have to. She wanted you to be happy."

"I'm already happy with my life- well, as happy as I can be without her."

"_This_-" Blaise gestured around. "-is a life centered around her, Drake. It's not healthy. She's dead, Malfoy. Accept it."

"I don't care." Draco said. "I don't care that she's dead. I wanted a life centered around her, and I have that now, don't I? This is as close as I could get to her. The only reason that I'm staying in this damned pathetic life is that she'll give me an earful for doing suicide. This is as happy as I could get, Blaise. No amount of other women that you force into my life is going to change that."

Blaise stared at his friend silently. He knew that Draco would react like this. He had to at least try. It was unhealthy for the blonde, but Blaise understood him. If he ever lost Luna, he was sure that he'd end up like Draco. Trying to save everyone and going through life as if nothing mattered.

"I miss her." Draco let out a shaky breath. "I miss her. And I can't _stand_ the fact that tomorrow, while everyone is out gallivanting with everyone else, no one but me and maybe her two idiot sidekicks would even remember her. Not enough people would remember that she's been dead for six years. Not enough people would _remember_ her."

"You're still so whipped." Blaise said, smiling ruefully. "Tell you what, since you'll need a drinking buddy and I'm available tonight, I guess that I could squeeze you in. Then you'll have four people remembering."

Draco snorted, but he was grateful. "What about Lovegood? It's Valentines tomorrow, Zabini. You know how girls are rabid about holidays like this.

"Not my Luna." Blaise said fondly. "You know how she is. She'll understand."

"Thank you, but no thanks. I prefer drowning myself in alcohol without annoying Italians around."

"Zyron's at 8:30?"

"I told you, I don't want to-"

"8:30 it is. Be there, okay?" Blaise chuckled. "And I swear that I'm not going to bring you another surprise brunette present this time."

"You better be. I'll have your head if you bring me another prostitute."

"Scarlet wasn't a prostitute!"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I swear! She was just easily bribed with money, that's all."

Draco glared at him. "Schematics. I don't want another brunette, okay?"

"So you want a blonde this time?"

"I mean it, Blaise. Come alone or don't come at all."

"Ooh when you say it like that, I'm almost tempted to start batting for the other side. But I love Luna too much."

"Whatever," Draco mumbled as he picked up the photo and conjured a frame. "Now, get out of my office."

"Always the sourpuss." Blaise said with a laugh as he strode out of Draco Malfoy's office, knowing full well that he was going to have a shit time again tomorrow.

Draco never let anyone but Blaise go drinking with him. He was too private with his affections for Granger. Blaise, Luna, Weaslette, the Suicidal Duo, Dumbledore, Snape and Theo were the only ones who knew about Draco and Hermione's past relationship. They had planned to tell everyone after they graduated, when the war was in full motion. They would reveal that Draco and Blaise had been working as spies for the Order and that they had budding relationships with Hermione and Luna respectively.

But Hermione didn't get past that point.

She died even before the war came into full swing.

* * *

Draco massaged his temples, rolling back his shoulder in an attempt to relieve some of the exhaustion that he was feeling. His day had gone as any other day. He spent time screaming at the new interns in the Potions Department, talking to some of the idiots that call themselves competent wizards, and trying to stop thinking about her death anniversary tomorrow.

He glanced at the clock. 8:15. Better get there before Blaise and slip in a few drinks. He would need to be drunk to deal with the Italian and whoever he chooses to tag along with them.

He got up and shrugged on his coat and briefcase. He glanced at the picture of them together, now sitting in a sleek black frame that his secretary had bought him after seeing the picture. She recognized Hermione, and his secretary shot him a look of disbelief and... Understanding. He should really start remembering her name. He had a feeling that they were going to get along, especially after he saw her flirting with one of the female interns.

With a pop, he apparated to the club. This was the place where he liked to spend his time drinking. He knew the owner, and he knew that he wouldn't be disturbed.

He walked purposefully towards the Wolf-head entrance, smirking at the bouncer who nodded at him. Once inside, he felt the familiarity of the club's ambience. He nodded at few of the regulars, and made his way towards the bar.

"Mr. Malfoy." The bartender greeted as he sat down on one of his usual spots. "I could get your usual table spot ready."

"I'd like to request a bigger table, actually." He said, taking the scotch that the bartender passed him. He chugged it all in one gulped. Heaven knows that he had to be inebriated before attempting to deal with Blaise's annoyingness. "I'm waiting for a friend."

"A friend?" Ethan questioned, raising an eyebrow. He knew that the legendary über bachelor Draco Malfoy didn't date.

"Not like that!" Draco snapped, taking another drink. "He's of the male variety."

Ethan's eyebrows shot up higher.

"Blaise." Draco glared. "Blaise is going to be drinking with me."

"For a second there, I actually thought that you were implying that you're rooting for the other side." Ethan chuckled. "I'll make it a table for two, then."

"Make it three." Draco grunted, knowing Blaise well enough to expect a third party to their already reluctant duo. The italian never listened to Draco's threats of disfigurement. "I'm sure that he'll bring another blonde bimbo tonight."

"I think Theo's more raven haired than blonde, don't you think?" Blaise's voice drifted from behind him. Draco turned and saw Blaise heading towards him, Theodore Nott in tow. Theo frowned at Blaise, and then his attention shifted to Draco, and the former Slytherin's face broke into a grin.

"Malfoy! Still as blonde as ever." They shook hands and followed Ethan towards the less crowded part of the bar. "Still chatting up the bartenders, I see."

"That only happened _once_, Nott." Draco growled as he made sure that Ethan didn't hear the rather inappropriate comment. "And I didn't even know that he was gay!"

"Excuses, excuses." Theo smirked, settling into his booth seat. "So, what's going on with you two chaps? Anything worth listening to happened in the past 4 years while I was away? Not that anything exciting ever happens to you two when I'm not around."

"Quit praising yourself." Draco retorted. "You know that you only ever tag along to _my_ frivolous adventures."

"More like frivolous _mishaps_."

"They were never mishaps. I never got punished."

"That's if you don't count going in the Forbidden Forest with a rabid dog and a stupid oaf as punishment. But knowing you, you probably didn't. Tell me Draco, did the whole bestiality thing appeal to you the most, or was it Hagrid's beard. I've heard so many story about Hagrid's beard."

"I do not need that visual." Blaise said, shuddering.

"Just because _you_ have fantasies of having threesomes with the crazy gentle giant and the rabid dog doesn't mean we all do. I'm pretty sure that you would have done the ballet if it was you who got to be alone with those two."

"Well, I actually don't know about the ballet thing, mate. If I recall correctly, you were the one wearing leotards and dancing shoes." Theo smirked as Draco's ears turned pink. He gulped down another glass, preferring to ignore the sting of humiliation that usually came when he remembered his childhood days in lessons that Narcissa had thought necessary.

"Shut it, Nott."

"My, you two sure have missed bickering." Blaise chuckled, ordering several bottles of vodka from the three of them. "How was Brazil, Theo? And Drake? Ease up on the drinks."

"Stop mothering me, Zabini." Draco huffed as he drowned another glass.

"It was fine. Brazilians are as addicted to Quidditch as they are to that muggle sport they call football. It was fun though," Theo waggled his eyebrows, shooting mischievous glances at his two friends. "I met Brown and Patil there. Let's just say that the three of us were very well acquainted by the end of the night."

"Ugh, stop it with the visual abuse!" Blaise said, mirroring Draco's look of disgust.

"What? Luna never invited one of her Gryffindor friends to play with you?"

"Theo," Blaise warned, knowing all too well that the topic was too near that of Hermione.

"Stop it, Theo, I do not need anymore visuals of Gryffindors doing things like what you're implying." Draco blanched, chugging a glass of his vodka.

"I'm sure that you've seen plenty of Gryffindor skin yourself." Theo quipped, but he instantly sobered his expression up, knowing that he crossed the line. "Look, Drake, I -"

"Just shut it." Draco said steely, chugging another glass.

Trying to break the tension, Blaise said, "Draco, Theo didn't mean to remind you of-"

"I don't need to be reminded about her. She's in _here_-" he pointed at his chest, and then to his head "- and in _here_ every fucking moment."

"Well, that was too bloody sentimental." Theo snorted, but his eyes showed pity. "How many drinks have you chugged? The Draco Malfoy that we all know and abhor would never say any of the bullshit that you just said, even if it saved his life."

"I should have told her how much I loved her." Draco said, ignoring Theo's comment and downing his 12th glass of vodka, he turned towards Blaise, saying, "I never told her that I loved her enough, didn't I? I never made sure that she would know how much I loved her. I've always assumed that she did."

Blaise sighed, but he nodded at his friend reassuringly, "Don't worry mate, she knew. She knows,"

Draco fixed him an almost sober looking stare, before his eyes turned glassy again. "But what if she _didn't_?"

"Zabini, I did not go out for a drink with you just to babysit Malfoy. Oy, Draco. How many shots did you have before we arrived?"

"I dunno." Draco answered sadly. "Four... Five? Can't remember... But I bet that she can. She always had a knack with numbers."

"Theo, Draco needs this, let's just-"

"It's been what? Five years? Surely by now he'd be over her enough to stop getting pissed drunk before anyone else has downed a glass. He's acting just as he was before I left! And that was four years ago!"

"Theo, just understand him. He's not normally this worse. He can handle himself, it's just that-"

"What? He saw someone who looked like Granger?" Theo said, but instead of annoyance that usually clouded his features, his brow was set with worry and his eyes looked anxious. "He needs to move on. Don't you see what it does to him? I would have expected more sense coming from you, Zabini! He's _barely_ hanging on as he is! We should stop coddling him and make him accept the reality of the situation!"

"He does!" Blaise said shrilly, his gaze drifting from Theo towards their currently mumbling incoherently friend. The Italian fell silent for a moment, before saying, "It's her death anniversary tomorrow. That's why he's acting like he wants to drown himself in alcohol."

Theo's eyes went wide. He gave Blaise a surprised look, before shifting his attention to Draco, who was currently in the process of trying to down a whole bottle of vodka in one gulp. "How could I forget? He only ever allows people to go drinking with him on her death anniversaries."

"How do you know that?" Blaise asked as he tried to move the rest of the bottles away from Draco. "You only went with us once, and that was before your team got transferred to America."

"Theo had went into professional Quidditch, after the war. Then he had shocked everyone by joining an American team and moving to the States.

"Just because I was out of the country, doesn't mean that I've completely forgotten about you guys. Someone had to make sure that Draco didn't murder you during one of his tantrums." Theo shrugged nonchalantly. "But I take that he's better? I mean, this behavior is just exclusive to tonight, right?"

"Yeah, he's-"

"He's right here, you dumb arse holes." Draco grumbled. "Stop talking like I'm not here. She hated it when Potty and Weasel did that to her. I hate that. Got it?"

"Yes, Master Draco. Whatever you prefer, master Draco." Theo said sarcastically.

Draco seemed to miss the sarcasm, as he smiled and tiped his head, saying, "Very good. Now, pass me more vodka, will you?"

Blaise stared at the two, who was currently debating over what was the best way to drink straight from a bottle. He shook his head. Maybe dragging along Theo wasn't such a good idea. But at least now, there were five people who would remember Granger. He stood up as he took the bottle from the two, and then commenced to pour its contents down his own glass. He braced himself against the cushions, getting comfortable.

He had a long night of babysitting ahead of him.

* * *

**A/n: Don't you just pity Blaise? Hahahaha :) I promise you guys, there would be more Dramione in the next chapter! :)**


	4. Chapter Four--Flashback

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN EVERYTHING BUT THE PLOT, PEOPLE. EVERYTHING BUT THE PLOT.**

**A/n: Hi guys! As I've promised before, there's more DHr action in this chappie! :) just pure sexual tension, though. **

**Babygirl246024, Annabeth-Artemis, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall. thank you for your awesome reviews! I love you guys! :)**

**so, to answer Guest's review, this is not, in anyway, a ghost story! :) Draco doesn't and wouldn't move on from loving Hermione. Maybe because he doesn't need to, *hint *hint *wink *wink. This is a DHr story all through out! Promise! :)**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR- FLASHBACK

"Granger. Walk _faster_," Draco sneered, looking back at the Head Girl's silhouette. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and were supposed to be doing their rounds. He was tired from his Quidditch practice and was seriously annoyed that he had to slow his pace just so she could catch up to him. "Does your impure blood render your abilities to walk? Because that's the only sane reason that I can think of that can explain your lack of locomotive skills."

She refused to answer, or increase her pace, so Draco stopped and decided to wait for her. Rounds were no fun without someone to rile up.

He saw her roll her eyes as she came closer, disdain evident on her face. "My blood has nothing to do with your incorrigible attitude. It's not my fault that I can't stand being near you, therefore I'd rather not walk with you. Last time I checked, I couldn't stand you because you're an asshat."

"Ooh, the mudblood just swore. Call the Daily Prophet! I think we've just had a significant turning point in history right here." He retorted, smirking. "'Stuck up, Know-it-all, Mudblood Finally Learns How to Swear' would be a good headline, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, and so would 'Stuck up, Know-it-all, Mudblood Brutally Murders the Amazingly Annoying Ferret for Being an Idiotic Blonde Jackass'." Hermione mumbled under her breath, finally catching up to Draco. She looked irritated to the point of murder, and she probably was.

"I don't think that something as small as you could murder me, much less hurt me. I doubt that that Gryffindork bullshit would even let you harm a hair on my head, Mudblood." Draco smirked.

Suddenly, with a blur of brunette and blonde, Hermione had him up against the corridor wall, her wand against his throat. She was breathing heavily, eyes flashing and mouth set into a scowl. In the faint moonlight, she looked feral, anger radiating of her in waves. It was the first time since third year that Draco had seen her so mad.

"Don't you _dare_ underestimate me, Malfoy." She snarled. "Usually, I have just enough patience to keep from _murdering_ you while I deal with _you_ and your _horrid_ remarks, but have been through _hell_ today. _Nothing_ has gone right for me. I am bloody tired and I want nothing but to just rest, but I'm stuck with _you_. So if I were you, you should stop trying to piss me off, because _believe_ me, you do _not_ want to know what little me is capable of once I'm _furious_."

Draco raised an eyebrow, staring down at her. He smirked, enjoying the feel of her anger, "Why so short-tempered, Granger? Poor ickle Weasel going out with another mudblood slut?"

"Mind your own business, ferret." Hermione hissed. "And shut it, I am _not_ in the mood for you prejudice and blind suprematism right now. Stop acting like a Lucius Malfoy wannabe and start acting _human_ for once!"

In another blur of blonde and brown, Draco had her pinned against the wall, trapped between his arms. She looked up at him, surprised and still furious. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Do _not_ talk about my father, Mudblood. You have no right to. And stop trying to threaten _me_. As much as I know that you like being this close to me, mudblood, I don't. I don't care about you or your little band of merry idiotic friends. I don't give a fuck about what you feel. So don't ever threaten me like that again. Because, believe me, I can do much more _worse_ things to you. So if I were you, I'd keep that wand safely hidden and stop threatening people who are much more capable of doing things that you can't even think of doing."

He stood still, trying to quell his rage. They stood there, all murderous glares and angrily flushed, bodies pressed together with enough hostility to kill. Tension filled the air, choking, clogging, making it difficult for them to breathe. Draco refused to break her glare-he wanted her to know that he was serious with his threat. He didn't even get repulsed by the insurmountable amount of mudblood germs that was most probably transferring to his clothes; he didn't care that they were close enough share breaths, even though he knew that it would dirty his insides and spread through him like the poison that she was; he didn't give a damn about the wand that was currently trained on his neck, because his wand was on her neck too, waiting for the other to move; he didn't care that he was dangerously close to her. She needed to know that he was not playing around. To move away would mean that he would have to break eye contact. And he wouldn't, not when he had a chance to teach her a lesson that was long overdue.

A scream pierced the quiet air.

"Shit. Shit! Malfoy, get off me, someone's screaming!" Hermione bellowed, panic evident in her features and tone. Draco stood still, taken aback, and slightly shocked himself. Hermione frowned at him and pushed him aside, immediately running towards the direction of the voice. "Malfoy! Stop being an idiot and follow me."

Immediately, Draco followed her, cursing himself for shutting down. But then again, he reasoned, it was probably the germs that he had contracted from her that had made him freeze. His long legs made it easy to catch up to her. Together, they ran towards the source, going up a flight of stairs, and eventually, into a dead end.

"Someone screamed, I'm sure of it." Hermione paced as she examined the walls and every crevice with the measly light coming from her wand.

"I know, I was there too." Draco said sarcastically, but he helped her search.

"They have got to be here somewhere." Hermione said, starting to backtrack.

"Stop pacing, mudblood, you're wearing out the floor and giving me a head ache." Draco snapped, still following the witch. "They're probably just students being out and goofing around. They do exist, you know."

"Shut it, Malfoy." The brunette said harshly, as she continued to walk down the hall. "That scream... It was something else. Maybe that was a student, but he or she definitely wasn't goofing around. There was pain in that scream. We have to find them."

Draco remained silent, begrudgingly agreeing to her. He knew how tortured screams sounded. That scream was definitely a tortured one, despite him wishing that it was otherwise.

They continued down the hall, flashing their wands around, looking for anything that might help them. "Granger, we need to inform the teachers about this, they could-"

Hermione shushed him, glaring at him before staring pointedly at the object that her wand was lighting up.

There, by a statue beside a flight of stairs, was a pair of bloody beaten up sneakers.

"Mudblood, I know you're all chivalrous and all, but there is blood on that shoe. We need to call reinforcements. If you want to risk your life, then go, but we'll be caught up in this too if we don't call for help. Wha-"

"Shut up." Hermione whispered as she bent down and took some blood off the shoes. "It's still fresh-warm. They're around here somewhere."

"I really think that we-"

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Too cowardly to look?" That shut him up. He scowled at her, as he followed her up towards a set of stairs. They were following the trail of blood, moving stealthily until Hermione said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "If we don't find whoever it is that did this now, he or she might escape."

Draco nodded, understanding her logic, but it didn't mean that he would want to go ahead and happily put his life in danger. It was a Gryffindork thing, and Draco was purely Slytherin. Self preservation through and through.

The only thing that kept him from running back and finding a professor was Granger. If he left, she would find whoever who did this alone. And he can't very well leave her to do so herself. It was dangerous, and she might get hurt. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Because he would get all the blame, of course.

Voices floated down towards them, just loud enough to be heard, but not enough to be understood. Quietly, they inched closer, finally hearing the words said. It was difficult, though, because they were in the astronomy tower and the voices outside were faint, muffled by the howling wind.

"Please." A voice said. "Don't hurt... You can't... They'll know..."

"I... Filthy blood-traitor... For the good of... The dark lord... To happen... She's a target... Need... Message... You."

"What are they talking about? Can you hear?" Hermione whispered to Draco, curiosity and slight fear coursing through her. Draco understood her reluctance. As the impending war loomed closer, incidents like these were getting more common and common. It wasn't safe to go anywhere alone anymore. But there was never a case like this at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was safe. Hogwarts was impregnable.

That was about to be proven otherwise.

A blood-curdling scream came from the other side of the door, shocking them both. For a split second, Draco thought that Hermione would stay put. He thought that she would be sensible enough to know that going in would be too damn dangerous. He thought that she of all people would be rational enough and stay silent as the screams grew louder.

But no, of course she would barge in and ruin their cover and endanger both their lives.

_Bloody Gryffindor._

Draco sighed, thinking about his misfortune of being stuck with someone who jumped into dangerous situations like ants drawn to sugar. He came in after her, ready to risk his bloody life to make sure that she was safe- he would be blamed if anything happened to her, after all.

If he was going to continue working with the mudblood, he might as well finalize his Will and Testament early. Heaven only knows how soon he was going to get killed by helping her out of these typically sticky situations. He knew that the Golden trio was a magnet for trouble, and he was stuck with a third of the said magnet. _Hurrah_.

He stood in front of Hermione, shielding her, anything that a typical gentleman would have done. He didn't know if it was from the adrenaline rush, or the frustration that the sadistic psychopath that they had been listening to had gotten away, but for a moment, he let himself forget of her dirty blood and let his instincts to protect her take over.

What could he say? He had wonky instincts from all the running around and sneaking.

"Oh Godric," Hermione whispered from behind him. "Merlin."

He twisted around, looking at her, checking for injuries and the like, anything that could have made her voice sound so broken. Again, he knew that getting him hurt would get him in trouble. It was just him trying to save his skin, not because he was concerned for her well being or anything.

Just as he was satisfied that the psychopath hadn't done anything physically to her, he noticed that her eyes were struck with horror. Slowly, he turned to his right and followed her gaze.

There, floating on the corner, hair being whipped around her face, blood dripping from a large gash on her forehead and pale as ice, was Luna Lovegood.

First, he had been assaulted by a ferocious Granger, then, he had been dragged into a frantic search for some horrible psychopath, and now this.

Damn, Draco was sure that he had done some unforgivable thing in his past life to merit his kind of luck. But knowing himself, he probably had.

Luna looked pale, frozen as she suspended a few feet from the tower floor. Her eyes were half-lidded, the dreamy expression that she usually wore was replaced by that of pain and horror. Her hair was floating around her, giving her a look of someone submerged in water.

In a scale of 1 to 10, the scene was definitely a 12 in the creepiness meter.

"Luna." Hermione whispered from beside Draco, and for the first time, he saw a look of pure terror adorn the witch's face. "Oh Merlin, Malfoy, call Mcgonagall, I can't move her, she looks pretty beaten up. I might damage something if I remove the levitation spell."

He glared at her, before raising an eyebrow in defiance. "No,"

"And why not?" Hermione screamed at him, anger and annoyance in her expression.

"Because, if you hadn't noticed, the moron who did this is still at loose. If I leave you here, he might come back and finish the job off."

"I can defend myself fine, Malfoy." She said through gritted teeth, crossing her arms before saying, "I've faced much worse things."

"I refuse to leave you out here, to stand alone in this tower, in open air, without any cover to protect you from someone who isn't above creeping up on an unsuspecting victim. At least, not on my watch." Draco said, crossing his arms.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy!" Hermione screamed in frustration. "Do you see her, Malfoy?" She said, pointing towards Luna's floating body. "She is _losing_ blood. A _lot_ of blood. If she doesn't get help soon, she might-"

"I know, mudblood! I know." He screamed with equal fervor. "But the fact still remains that the killer is still at loose! Leaving you here would mean that you'll be like a sitting duck! I refuse to do so! I could get blamed for this!"

Hermione looked at him skeptically, before shouting, "You worry more about your reputation than her life? How could you even-"

Draco raised his wand and it released two jets of pulsing golden light, with proceeded to blast themselves into rather large and loud fireworks. "There! Happy now? That's bound to get some attention!"

"Now the whole school would know! The head master might want to keep this a secret!"

Deafening popping sounds radiated from all around them, as bright flashes of light surged at random, bathing them in a multicolored glow.

"Oh you should be aware after almost seven years of living here that nothing stays a secret in this Salazar forsaken place. The whole school would have found out eventually." Draco countered. "At least now, we'd be sure to get the authorities' attention."

"Yes! And the attention of the whole student body! How can you-"

"If I recall correctly, it was you who decided to jump right into this mess without calling for help!" Draco screamed, leaning tall over her. He didn't know why she was so pissed at him, he was only doing the most sensible thing. Golden light flashed around them as thunderous pops continued to disturb the otherwise still night air. "We could have avoided this if you had just-"

"Mr. Malfoy! Ms. Granger!" Professor Mcgonagall's affronted voice floated from the doorway. "What's the meaning of all this noise! You two have a lot of expalining to-"

She stopped cold when she saw the sight of Luna.

"Merlin, Ms. Lovegood." Mcgonagall said, eyes widening as she moved swiftly towards the still fuming pair. "We need to get her to the hospital wing!"

"What is all this racket about?" Another voice sneered from the stairs, after a moment, Snape's nightgown clad body emerged.

"Severus! Help me levitate miss Lovegood to the hospital wing! Quickly!" Mcgonagall said frantically as the two teachers set to work. She turned towards the Head boy and girl. "You two, follow us, and would you please stop the pyrotechnics."

Hermione glared at Draco as he stopped the fireworks. She brushed passed him, moving on to follow the professors.

Ungrateful woman. He had essentially made sure that she hadn't been next on the moron's list of victims, and all he got was a cold look and a brush off. Ungrateful mudblood. He should have left her on the tower to fend for herself, consequences be damned.

Then, as the thought crossed his mind, he cursed himself for knowing that he could have never left her in harm's way. He would have been blamed, if anything had happened to her, and he wouldn't want that, of course.

He sighed as he moved to follow the group.

They had a long night of explaining ahead of them.

* * *

"So you heard her scream, followed her, and then forced yourself out into the tower roof and saw her levitating, is that correct, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded as she sipped her cup of coffee. Draco just nodded, glancing around the almost remote hospital wing. A lone figure was placed at the far corner of the room, but otherwise, it was only him, Granger, and Mcgonagall sitting around the now patched-up Lovegood. He heard Granger sigh tiredly, and he understood her exhaustion. Snape and Pomfrey were currently brewing potions in the other room, seeing as the gash on Luna's forehead proved difficult to close and the mediwitch had ran out of her blood replenishing potion before they figured out how to heal it. Luna still needed more blood, so she was currently working with Snape as Mcgonagall interrogated the two heads. It was already three in the morning and it looked like Mcgonagall didn't plan on letting them sleep. Bloody old bat.

"You didn't catch a glimpse of the culprit? No telling sign, whatsoever?"

"None." Hermione sighed, and then added, "He jumped off the tower roof and away into the night before I could shine my wand light on him. It was all so fast. Malfoy didn't even get to see him go."

"Yeah," Draco nodded absently. He took a sip of coffee and wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste. He hated coffee, but if he wanted to return to his dorm in one piece, he had to stay alert. "He was wearing a dark cloak. It looked like he was riding a broom away from the tower."

"I see." Mcgonagall said, nodding. "And before you barged in, did you hear anything?"

"Yes." It was Draco who answered this time. "Something about the Dark Lord and someone else being a target."

Draco knew that he would get in trouble for relaying this piece of informaton to Mcgonagall, especially if the man was indeed on a mission from the Dark Lord, but he needed the Professor to trust him. As his father had said, he wouldn't be any useful to the Dark Lord if he was suspected.

Not that he'd want to be useful to the hypocritical asshole. Voldemort talked about blood purity when he himself was a half blood. Heir of Slytherin or not, his father was still a muggle, and therefore that made him unfit to even lead any kind of cause. Draco was appalled when he first came across the information, hearing it from Wormtail during his sixth year. Ever since then, he had contemplated leaving Voldemort's service, since he thought that it was a stupid cause, but his father would not leave. And when it came down to it, his family loyalty had forced him to stay.

"Interesting. But why would they target Luna, though?"

"I don't think that Luna was targeted, Professor." Hermione piped up. "I think she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. She tends to wander at night, and I think he or she just caught Luna and decided that she should be disposed of."

"But she might also be, targeted, Granger." Draco countered. "She was dragged up and tortured in the tower, for heaven's sake. It doesn't make sense if the culprit just didn't want to get caught. He would have just stood there and left her alone."

"But she couldn't possibly have been set up! No one goes through the edge of the seventh floor halls except for astronomy class, and there were no classes today!"

"Lovegood is barmy. She may have just wandered around, and the culprit might have predicted that! She might-"

"Enough you two. Your shouting is giving me a migraine. You can both be right." Mcgonagall conceded as Granger gave him a glare. "I have to discuss it with Dumbledore tomorrow, now, why don't you two get some sleep? I'll excuse you from your classes tomorrow, but be here by noon so that you can help me ask Luna questions. Stick together, if you please. And be careful, both of you."

They both nodded, rising up from their chairs. When they were safely out of earshot, Draco leaned in closer to Hermione, who was tiredly rubbing her eyes.

"Hear that, Mudblood? Mcgonagall said we should stick together. No dillydallying behind this time."

"You still want to argue about that?" Hermione said sarcastically, holding up her hands in mock surrender, saying, "Okay okay, Malfoy, I'll keep myself within reasonable distance of you royal asshole-ness."

"Good." Draco nodded, ignoring her sarcasm, before smirking and turning to her again, "Well, let's get you up to our dorms, my lowly peasant. You look like you've battled a rabid raccoon. Maybe some sleep might make you look pretty. Or at least as pretty as you can hope to be."

"Ha-ha Ferret. Your joking ability is so superb." Hermione deadpanned.

Draco continued smirking at her smugly. He was dead exhausted, but riling Granger up and annoying her was worth the extra energy that he had spent on his insults.

* * *

"How is she, Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked as she and Draco followed the mediwitch to the area where Luna was relocated.

"She's fine- recovering." The mediwitch answered as she pulled the heavy curtain separating the inner sanctum of the ward. Students were usually placed here when they had lasting injuries.

"Zabini?" Hermione said from beside Draco. The blonde looked shocked to see his Italian friend on the bed beside the still quite unconscious Luna.

"What are you doing here, Blaise?" Draco asked, masking the slight concern that he felt for his best mate.

"Fell off my broom and landed on Vince after practice." Blaise grimaced, wrinkling his nose and rolling his eyes. "He accidentally hit me with a curse that rearranged my internal organs. I'm stuck here til Madame Pomfrey fixes my insides up."

"Has Luna woken up yet?" Hermione inquired, sitting on Luna's bedside. She scowled as Malfoy moved towards her, but her expression turned into one of relief as Draco sat on Blaise's bedside. Draco scoffed, as if he would ever voluntarily sit next to a mudblood like her.

"Not since she's been brought in here, no." Blaise answered. His gaze drifted to Luna's still body. Draco saw a hint of concern flash before his friend's face before Blaise put on a mask of indifference. "What happened to her, anyway?"

"Some wanker caught her wandering in the halls and decided to torture her." Draco answered, and he and Blaise exchanged worried looks. If the agents of the Dark lord were brazen enough to enter Hogwarts, probably one of the safest anti-death-eater places in all of Europe, then the slimy old git must be after something or someone important.

Draco released a shaky breath, knowing sooner or later, he or Blaise or Nott would be called upon to do the job. He shuddered at the thought of being initiated into those vile Death Eater ranks. The three of them had hated Voldemort since fourth year, when he started monopolizing their parents' lives and therefore monopolizing their lives. They were almost of age. It was only a matter of time before one of them got initiated. As the war grew, more and more people would be needed inside the school, seeing as it held most of the wizarding youth. When the time came that Snape would no longer be an adequate enough spy, Voldemort would start recruiting students. And Draco, Theo and Blaise would be on top of the list of candidates, that was for sure.

"Malfoy? Are you even listening to me?" Hermione said irritably as she shot Draco a piercing glare.

"No." Draco shrugged, covering his lack of attention with nonchalance. "Not worth listening to."

"Why you, little prat." Hermione huffed. "As I said, we shouldn't be throwing the details of Luna's stay here around. You of all people should know that this should be hushed up. I'm sorry, Zabini, but we'd rather not let the whole school in on the secret."

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly, before giving Hermione a winning smile and saying, "Sure, but that depends on how much you're willing to let me do to you, Granger. In exchange for the secrecy, of course." He winked at her, and smiled with amusement, making Hermione understand that it was all just harmless play.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Zabini?" Hermione replied, trying desperately not to laugh. She was used to these flirty exchanges.

Draco frowned at the exchange. He knew that the two were acquainted, bordering on being friends, even. They had been partners in Potions class during fifth year. But he didn't know that they liked to flirt. Blaise might, but he never thought that Granger would even as much as play along. Draco growled, glowering at the two. He hated that Blaise was like this with the mudblood. Zabini knew better.

Draco swatted Blaise with a copy of the Daily Prophet that was on the Italian's bedside table. "That's enough you two, heaven knows it might push Looney Lovegood into an even worse condition."

"What is your problem, Ferret? Why can't you just sit there and stop being annoying for at least a-" Hermione began, but the curtains immediately opened and Theodore Nott walked in.

"Hermione," he greeted, blushing deeply, completely ignoring his two best mates as he stood awkwardly on the curtained entrance. Then, he seemed to notice the other people in the room. "Blaise, how are you?" Theo asked the Italian, completely oblivious to the death glares that he was receiving from his blonde so called friend.

"Fine, mate. Or, as fine as you could be with your kidney and pancreas and who knows what else exchanging positions." Blaise grunted in response.

Theo chuckled, and then turned towards The brunette, "So, Hermione, what are you doing here?"

Hermione flashed him a smile and Draco flashed him a furious glare. Did every fucking Slytherin seventh year like the mudblood now? It frustrated him to no end, knowing that they interacted with her on a level above acquaintances, no one was supposed to do so with the mudblood. It wasn't proper! Before the brunette could answer, Draco barked, "None of your business."

Theo turned towards him, seemingly surprised. He gave Draco a questioning glance as he made his way to sit beside the fuming blonde. Probably not the best decision, since Draco looked ready to claw his eyes out.

How dare he break the Slytherin code by speaking in friendly terms with a lowly mudblood!

Hermione shot the blonde a death glare similar to the one he was donning, before completely softening her expression up and turning towards Theo, "Malfoy and I are here to visit Luna, and we're supposed to meet with Mcgonagall."

"Oh." Theo said thoughtfully. "But in the hospital wing?"

"Yeah. Urgent matters to discuss, which are again, none of your business." Draco said, which earned him another confused stare from Theo.

"As much as I'd hate to agree with the rude ferret, he's right, Theo, I'm sorry." Hermione said apologetically. "We can't disclose the details to you, at least, not yet. I'll fill you in once we get the go signal from Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Dumbledore, okay?"

Theo blushed as the brunette flashed him another winning smile. Draco sulked, glaring at the pair as he thought evil thoughts towards Theo. and just as the blonde was about to add another snarky comment, a dreamy sigh escaped from the bed nearest Hermione.

"Luna?" Hermione asked, leaning over the blonde. "She's waking up, I'll go fetch Madame Pomfrey!"

And with that, the Head girl practically left out of her seat and flew out of the cordoned area.

Lovegood sat up, blinking blearily and confusedly at her surroundings. She diverted her attention to the Slytherin trio, shooting them an inquisitive glance. The room suddenly tensed as the awkward silence continued to fill the room. That is, until Luna smiled brightly and said, "You three have nargles around your head."

Blaise broke out laughing, clutching at his sides as Theo and Draco looked at the two as if they were crazy. And maybe the Italian and the dreamy blonde were. Blaise's laugh subsided, and he asked, "Do you know how to get rid of them?"

"He has got to be kidding me." Draco muttered as he and Theo exchanged flabbergasted looks.

"Looks like he isn't." Theo replied, and Draco momentarily forgot about his current desire to incinerate the other boy alive. They pasted on identical Slytherin smirks as they watched the italian and dreamy blonde have a serious conversation.

"Miss Lovegood," Professor Dumbledore said as he walked in. "I'm glad to see that you're up and awake."

"Yes, Professor," she sighed dreamily, "As I was saying to Blaise here, a Snicklepuff must have been tickling my ears, because that's the reason why I woke up. They tend to love earwax, you know, but their fur tends to be quite ticklish."

"I see," the old Professor nodded with amusement. "But back to the most pressing issue. Do you recall anything that happened to you last night, Miss Lovegood?"

"Actually... Now that I think about it, I don't, Professor." Luna said, her tone never once deviating from its dreamy state. "The last thing I remember was wandering around the halls, looking for my shoes. I've lost my last pair, you see, and I really needed to find a pair. I think I managed to find one behind the statue of Oddrick the Oddball by the Astronomy tower, and that's the last thing I recall."

"You lost your _shoes_?" Blaise, Theo and Draco asked in unison as Hermione also asked, "They took your shoes _again_?"

"Well, it's yes to all your questions." Luna smiled at the four.

"You don't recall seeing or interacting with anyone else?" Professor Mcgonagall asked softly, surveying the newly awakened girl.

"No... But I can't seem to recall anything else after finding my shoes."

Professor Dumbledore's expression turned inquisitive, his wrinkled brow furrowing before he smiled and said, "Would you mind if you show me your memories, Ms. Lovegood?"

"Of course I don't, Professor." The blonde smiled and nodded, "But you might want to be careful though, Daddy says that I've got a case of Bratindollies, they might make you going into my head difficult, especially because they're known to make one's magic a little wonky."

After an hour of poking around Luna's head, the old professor deemed that the culprit had placed a very powerful memory charm on her, but considering the ordeal that she had been through, she was fine. Dumbledore and Mcgonagall left after the exchange, with Granger wanting to go back to lessons after Lovegood fell asleep, the three Slytherin boys were left together, staring at each other and not knowing what to do.

After a few minutes, it was Theo who broke the uncomfortable silence, saying, "Who do you reckon did it?"

"Might be Pucey, he's stealthy and actually has two extra brain cells on him." Blaise remarked, settling down and looking at Luna with an unreadable emotion present on his face.

"Could also be one of the Carrows." Draco mulled, "There was a lot of screaming, I'm betting that there was a bit of torture involved. The twins love that sort of thing."

"Yeah," Theo nodded, and Draco noticed that he was scratching his wrist. It was one of Theo's nervous habits. Draco frowned, knowing that if something riled Theo up, there was good enough reason to panic. Before the blonde could say anything, Theo spoke up and said, "Do you reckon that they'll start recruiting soon?"

"Yeah." Draco nodded, frowning slightly at the thought. He didn't agree with the cause that his father partook in. None of them did. But they were slaves to their own fate, and Draco didn't bother sugarcoating it. Among the three of them, it always fell to him to tell them the truth, or at least be as blunt as he could be. "Father talked to me about the initiation this summer. The bloody fool was brimming with excitement when he talked about the initiating tasks that we were supposed to do. It was different with every person, he said. And I bet that every stupid thing would be as vile as the last one."

"I don't want to be a Death eater." Theo whispered, scratching at his wrist.

"Of course you don't. I don't think that death would taste nice." Blaise said, attempting a joke, but he was silenced with the other two's serious glares. "You two don't need to be so morbid about it. We'll get through this war, everything would be fine. Hell, we might not even get initiated!"

"Easy for you to say," Draco scoffed. "Your mother isn't part of the inner circle. Hell, the stupid git doesn't even talk to her, and she isn't even initiated. Theo and I can't avoid it, even if we tried. My father is a sadistic bastard. He'll do anything to get me to join. He might even use mum, since he knows that I would do anything to protect her."

"Mine probably would, too." Theo said glumly.

"Well, at least you two should just be the bumbling teenage idiots that we are while we still have the time! No use on thinking about it if you're just going to sit there and look like you just lost your bloody fortunes. So wipe those frowns off your ugly faces and find a girl and shag her senseless. That would probably do you two good."

"Har-har, Zabini." Draco said sarcastically. "Trust you to make a joke about this whole shitty situation. You should go back to being a sulking Slytherin. I hate it when you try to cheer us up. You suck at it."

"Nah, you love it, it's just your pride saying that you don't." Blaise smiled smugly.

"I'm pretty sure that we don't." Theo smiled, looking up and shaking his head, and chuckling, "Cheer is a Gryffindor thing, after all. And you mate, are purely Slytherin. We all are. Cheering up doesn't sit well with our apparent inclination to general lack of enthusiasm and masochistic love for making everyone miserable."

Blaise and Draco joined in, chuckling quietly, and then Blaise said, "Speaking of Gryffindor, what is up with you and Granger?"

Draco froze, seemingly unable to process the question, and instantly wanting to defend himself against it. He was about to open his mouth to say that there was no way in hell that there would _anything_ be between him and the mudblood when Theo beat him to it, and said, "Nothing! There's nothing going on between us! I mean, Hermione barely even notices me and-"

"You and _Granger_?" Draco said furiously as he turned towards Theo. "What the hell, Nott? You of all people know that _she's_ off limits!"

"I _do_." Theo said, dropping his gaze and scratching his wrists again. "That's why I haven't said anything to her yet."

"You're actually admitting that you _like_ Granger?" Blaise said, his eyebrows shooting up as Draco saw the Italian glance at him. Draco was still surprised, not knowing wether it was because he was furious or because he was shocked. He expected Theo to deny the accusation, but he obviously didn't.

"Yeah," Theo said, blushing, not noticing that the blonde beside him was reddening too. "I mean what's not there to like? She's intelligent, funny, kind, brave and she's... Well, she's beautiful."

"Draco, our baby is having his first crush." Blaise cooed as he grinned at Theo's obvious discomfort. Between the three of them, Theo had always been the baby, always the most innocent and naive, well, as naive as a Slytherin could get.

Theo turned crimson and Draco's complexion resembled that of a beet root. "I just... I know that you hate her and all," Theo told Draco, mistaking his speechless fury as disapproval - which it was, Draco reminded himself. "But she's something different, you know. She's head strong, she's stubborn, and she doesn't look at me like I'm evil. She looks at me like another human being, and during these times, those looks are rare. She's passionate, and she's... She's just... Different. I can't believe that I like her, but I do. I mean-"

Suddenly, Draco's Malfoy ring warmed up, signalling that his father was calling for him. He stood up abruptly, mumbling excuses as he walked out of the hospital wing.

* * *

_How dare he like her? How could he be so stupid to like Granger, of all people?_ Draco thought to himself as his father drawled endlessly in front of him. How idiotic could Nott get? Did he have a death wish? Sporting feelings for Granger is like a death wish. Especially if Nott Senior found out.

"Draco, are you even listening to me?"

"Uhm, sorry father, I haven't had much sleep last night."

"That isn't even a proper excuse." His father hissed. "You're lucky that I am in a splendid mood."

"And why is that, Father?" He asked dryly, deciding to humor the old man. Pissing Lucius off would do him no good whatsoever.

"Because the Dark Lord wants to initiate you to our cause." His father said gleefully, and Draco paled at the older man's words. It wasn't possible, it was still so early in the school year, surely, Snape was still very useful as a spy. Surely the Dark Lord didn't need anybody else.

"I... I don't know what to say, Father." He said, careful to keep his emotions in check.

"Well, you should be happy! This is glorious event, you're the youngest to be initiated, and from a direct request of the Dark Lord, you should be proud!"

"I am," he lied smoothly, trying to hide the panic that was washing over him in waves. "What is the task?"

"It's not _just_ a task, Draco, it's the task that will elevate your standing in the Dark Lord's eyes." His father explained, smiling manically. "Since the last attempt to infiltrate Hogwarts failed, seeing as Alecto wasn't successful in trying to replace and pose as one of the students, the job will belong to you."

So that was what happened to Lovegood. The psychopath had been Alecto Carrow in disguise. Granger was right. Lovegood was just a random chose. Damn that stupid mudblood bookworm, always managing to get everything right.

"This task will be the first of two stages of your initiation, but we will give it to you in parts. You have to accomplish one before moving to the next part. Am I understood?"

"Yes, of course, Father." He replied. "What's the first part?"

"Excited, aren't we, Draco?" His father smiled maliciously. "The Dark Lord wants you to be nice to the _mudblood_."

"_What?_" Draco said, eyes widening into saucers and eyebrows shooting comically up.

"He wants you to befriend Hermione Granger."

* * *

**A/n: Soooo, what do you think? :D questions, clarifications, please tell me! Reviewwww! :)**


	5. Chapter Five--Flashback

**DISCLAIMER: SADLY, NOT MINE, BUT SURELY BY NOW YOU'D KNOW THAT ENOUGH TO FORGO SUING ME.**_  
_

**A/n: okay it's taken me ages to update, I know. But it's summer! I have all these stupid classes and shit because my parents think that having a genius for a daughter is cute. I'm not even smart. It's stupid, and frankly, my braincells are behaving like kamikazis from all the Calculus and organic chem that's being shoved inside me head.**

**TheEnglishWoelder, angelica8051, Francie, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, thank you for your reviews! :) this chapter is for you guys! You each get a virtual cookie! Yay!**

* * *

_"This task will be the first of two stages of your initiation, but we will give it to you in parts. You have to accomplish one before moving to the next part. Am I understood?"_

_"Yes, of course, Father." He replied. "What's the first part?"_

_"Excited, aren't we, Draco?" His father smiled maliciously. "The Dark Lord wants you to be nice to the mudblood."_

_"What?!" Draco said, eyes widening into saucers and eyebrows shooting comically up._

_"He wants you to befriend Hermione Granger."_

Chapter Five-Flashback

_October 17, 1998_

"Let me carry that for you, Granger." He said as he took most of the innumerable amount of books that the brunette carried. He wanted to hex the bloke who came up with the notion that carrying things for women was chivalrous. This was _absurd_! The amount of books that she had cradled could have easily outweighed him. Bloody rules of society. He took a deep breath and chanted his new mantra-Granger isn't a disgusting mudblood-despite him disagreeing to the chant wholeheartedly.

She looked at him in shock, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. He smirked at her and she seemed to get back to reality. "What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?"

He turned towards her, and looked at her deadpanned, "I'm serving as an accomplice to a diabolical plan to rule the Wizarding and Muggle worlds through fear and terror by the way of helping a poor, helpless little beaver from getting crushed under the mountain of books that the said know-it-all insists that she can carry."

He smirked. If only she knew how true the sentence was, she probably would have hexed him into the next century.

She glared at him, raising an eyebrow and holding out her arms. "Give them back."

"No."

He hugged her books closer, refusing to backdown from her demanding glare. "Give them _back_!"

"I said, _no_."

"What is wrong with you, Malfoy?" Hermione spat as she gave up and strode ahead of him, ignoring the surprised looks of the passing class of second year hufflepuffs. Draco gave them a menacing glare and they immediately scurried away, but not before passing looks between them. 'Bloody Hufflepuffs' the blonde thought, as he sped up to catch up with the mudblood. Honestly, if he wasn't afraid for the life of his mother, he never would have even attempted to do this 'being nice' load of dung. It would have been easier if he was just tasked to kill the beaver instead. At least that experience could have proven therapeutic and satisfying. "You've been acting like this for two damned weeks. Do you need me to get Dumbledore to escort you to St. Mungos or something? Or better yet, I'll deliver you to the psyche ward myself."

"Don't be so dramatic, beaver. I'm just carrying your seriously heavy books. You should be fainting in seventh heaven right now."

"More like wallowing in the pits of the 9th circle of hell for being so close to you."

"You know, most girls would give up an eye to get me to act this way towards them."

"And since when have I given you the impression that I am _anything_ like most of the females that you choose to acquaint yourself with?"

"You know you want me, Granger. Can't deny that." He quipped, flashing her a charming smile. Her scowl deepened and she huffed at him, giving him another one of her glares.

"'Want' is one of the top verbs that I would _never_ associate you with, you slimy ferret."

"Wanna bet?" He smirked, as he wagged his eyebrows at her. She turned into a violent shade of red as she clenched her fists and struggled to contain her anger. One of the best parts about his task about being nice to Granger was that the forced additional contact meant that he was free to rile her up even more.

"Ugh. Drop it, Malfoy." She grumbled, calming her ranging temper slightly. "Again, why are you acting so nice? Emphasis on the acting part. You're still spouting incorrigible nonsense."

"Look." Draco said, feigning innocence. He put as much honesty as he could without seeming like a hufflepuff in his expression. "I'm _trying_ here. Whatever our problems were, it's in the past. Sure, I still enjoy riling you up and making you screech in frustration, but I actually want to work with you without us wanting to skin each other alive or something. I want to get to know you because I'm going to have to spend the rest of the year in relatively close proximity to you, and I'd rather be secure that you won't hex my balls off the moment I turn my back to you. That's why I'm trying to be nice. Plus, we have a truce, and it would do the both of us no good. I... I want us to be _friends_, or at least, civil, because's that's the best way to get our jobs done. Just stop complaining Granger, and start trying too, for once."

She was silent for a total of five whole seconds.

He must have set a record.

She studied his face carefully, but his earnest face could fool even the Dark Lord, and eventually, her eyes softened as she said, "All right, Malfoy, I'll try."

She suddenly turned around, but not before he saw the blush of embarrassment touch her cheeks. This was too easy. Give her a speech about trying to be good and getting work done and she would accept you with open arms. _Stupid_ mudblood. She could get killed if she continued to be this trusting. But he couldn't blame her much, he was a pretty good actor, if he could say so himself. He quickly followed, adjusting his hold on her barrage of books as they headed towards the charms classroom. _This was too easy._ He thought, rolling his eyes.

He almost crashed into her as she suddenly turned around, fierce expression on her small face as she stood on tiptoe and came closer towards him, apparently, to intimidate him. She glared at him, before whispering vehemently, "But if I _ever_ get evidence that this is just some pity sob story that you've come up with to play some practical joke on me, then you will have hell and worse to pay. Am I understood?"

He nodded, just barely keeping his face straight. She glared at him some more and turned around again, now walking with even more purpose in her step.

He shook his head as a smirk erupted on his face.

It looks like the mudblood might have some hope on surviving after all.

* * *

_October 31, 1998_

"Hey beaver, who led the Goblin Rebellion of 1438?"

It was a Saturday night, and they were in their common room, studying in companionable silence until Draco got bored enough to start pestering Hermione.

"Freedert the Frailhearted." She replied absentmindedly, not even looking up to meet his eyes. Which were trained on her. She didn't even _react_ to the insult. She had sat like that for the past hour, not minding him in the least and ignoring him despite the racket that he was making. The only times that his attempts at distracting her ever worked was when she mumbled answers to his questions about their classes. She didn't even respond to the insults, for Merlin's sake.

It was downright disconcerting.

Not to mention annoying.

Frowning, he tried to illicit a better reaction again. He decided that a few more insults might just do the job. "What year was the next rebellion again? Of course, you being a little know-it-all mudblood, you'd probably know the exact hour and minute that is started."

"4:57 am, August 24th, 1572. Muggles call it the 'St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre."

She didn't even notice the insults! What was _wrong_ with her? Normally, she would have verbally hit him with a force equivalent to that of a beater's bat hitting a rouge bludger.

But she didn't.

And it was making Draco seriously uncomfortable.

Where did all the vehemence go? Since when did she not hate him enough to return his particularly well thought of insults? Was the sudden lack in her almost constant negative attention due to the fact that he was being nice to her?

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Granger?"

"Hmmm?"

He raised his voice, irritation coursing through his veins. "I asked you a question, Granger! Stop ignoring me and answer it properly!"

She ignored him.

She fucking _ignored_ him.

The _nerve_.

He stood up, knocking back his books and spilling ink all over his desk. Then he strode towards her, crossing the room in a blink of an eye. He yanked the book that she was reading out of her hands. She looked dazed and confused for a few seconds before a look of rage overcame her features.

That's more like it.

"What do you think you're doing, you slimy little prat?" She demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "Give me back my book! I was on the interesting part!"

He looked at the older-than-Salazar-Slytherin tome and scoffed at her. "What were you on? _The hundred different uses of toe lint_?"

"No, of course not!" She huffed indignantly. "I've been reading on _The magical properties of flobberworm slime combined with powdered goat hoof_! Now can you please give me my book back and stop being such a demented and abhorrent prick?"

"Now, now, now, Granger," he tutted, holding the heavy volume tighter. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Ugh, you're impossible." She spat at him, but her glare was no longer as murderous as it once was.

Ever since he had spouted out the wanting to be friends and wanting to change crap (as if he could get any better than he already was), she had gone all soft on him.

Frankly, it was scary.

The past week made him realize that he'd rather face the wrath of his Father and Voldemort combined than lose the ability to make his dorm mate furious.

He should have been _proud_ that his plan worked flawlessly. He should have been _celebrating_ and making sure that it passed on perfectly. But here he was, _bemoaning_ the loss of his inherent ability to put himself in Hermione Granger's to-kill-list.

He was mad. Insane. _Positively bonkers_.

And he blamed it all on the absence natural ability to exercise and stimulate his creative deviousness.

She snatched the book from out of his hands while he was distracted. Then, she stuck her tongue out at him, but didn't give him the verbal lashing that he _seriously_ coveted.

He had to remedy this change in her reactions towards him. He needed to remedy this.

Oh, what he wouldn't give for one of their famous verbal sparring and screaming matches.

The Dark Lord be _damned_, for all he cared.

He was going to have to make her hate him to the core again.

* * *

November 4, 1998

The last four days had been pure torture.

He had studiously ignored Hermione, going as far as staying silent on their private Heads meeting and letting her do all the talking on their prefect meetings. He even cast murderous glares at her when he knew that she was looking.

All the effort was draining the life out of him.

Why couldn't everything just go back to normal? Why couldn't everything just fall back into place again, with him hating her to the bone, and her hating him to his bone marrow.

He gave another weary sigh. Not talking to her was worse than not receiving insults.

"What's wrong, Drake?" Blaise asked, looking up from his Quidditch magazine. They were in the Slytherin common room, with Draco trying to spend the least amount of time possible in the heads common room. It was nearly one o'clock He was hiding out here tonight, because he was supposed to suffer through another set of rounds with Hermione in precisely thirty minutes. Fan-_fucking_-tastic. "That's your sixth sigh in twice as many minutes."

"You can _count_, hurrah for you, Zabini!" He muttered dejectedly.

"Why all the sulking?"

"I'm not sulking, I'm brooding."

"That's practically the same."

"No, it isn't." He sighed again. "They're different. Look it up, why don't you?"

"Drake, you've been acting like a vegetable for the past two weeks, and for the past four days, you've been acting like you're dying or something. Can't blame a bloke for trying to be a proper friend and asking you what the hell is wrong."

"I'm fine." He snapped, and then gave up on the pretense. Blaise was indeed one of his best mates, and he needed someone to pile all of his frustration on. Zabini never did mind if he hexed him. Usually because he would retaliate, but that wasn't the point. Merlin, when did he become such a _pathetic_ arsehole. "Okay, I'm not."

"Elaborate." Blaise said, putting down his magazine to listen. "This is about a girl, isn't it?"

"Yes, no, I don't know." Draco groaned. "I don't even think of her as one."

"And may I ask who this particular bird is?" Blaise chuckled, oblivious to the internal battle, no storm, that was raging on inside his blonde mate's head. "I mean, she must be something if she's got _the_ great Draco Malfoy acting like a thirteen year old school girl."

"Shut it." Draco muttered. "I'm not acting like a thirteen year old. And I don't even like her in the way that you're insinuating."

"Woah, that much amount of denial in one sentence?" Blaise smirked. "I think I've got a clue on who you're referring to."

"And who, pray tell, do you think it is?" Draco remarked darkly.

"Oh I don't know, a certain Gryffindor perhaps? I mean, she's smart and pretty enough to get any boy to look at her with interest, and I've been expecting this since you've fancied your pants off her since third year,"

"I didn't fancy Granger since third year! I still don't!" Draco snapped, sitting up and glaring at his italian friend. "What could possibly make you think of such an absurd motion."

"I never said anything about Granger." Blaise said calmly. If looks could kill, he would have been frothing on the mouth on the floor right now. "I've been with you since our diaper days, Drake. I know you. Everyone knows that you've got a soft spot for Granger ever since she punched the living daylights out of you on third year. _Why_ you liked her after that particular encounter, I'll never know. But you can't deny it, it's practically written on your face every time you guys talk, or rather, scream at each other."

"I'm pretty sure that the only emotions that _I_ feel for that stuck up know it all is hatred and disgust, Zabini." Draco said coldly, challenging his friend to say otherwise. "You must be wrong in the head to think that I actually harbor feelings for that mudblood."

Blaise shook his head, "Could have fooled me, mate. But if you're stubborn enough to refuse to see it, then it's not my problem. But I expect to say a big I told you so when you clear your shit out, grow some eyeballs, and manage to steal a pair of balls."

"You'd never." Draco growled. "Because there is _no way in hell_ that I fancy that damn muggleborn."

"Hmmm." Blaise hummed, rolling his eyes. "But it's true right, she's the reason why you're so agitated right now."

"So? She agitates me all the time. This time doesn't make any difference."

"Mate, you're acting like someone stabbed your mother, or something. I'm pretty sure that this time, there's a huge difference."

"Fine." Draco harrumphed. "I'll tell you, but you better not tell anyone or I'll curse you into wearing tutus and serenading Snape for the next decade or so."

Blaise shuddered, but nodded anyway.

"I'm bothered because she isn't insulting me anymore."

A moment of silence.

Blaise fell off the floor laughing.

"Are"-chuckles-"you saying that"- gasps for air-"you're upset" -chuckles-"_because Granger won't talk to you_?"

"You're an imbecile." Draco muttered as Blaise struggled to regain his breathing. "And I'm not upset because we're not talking." Although I slightly am. And then he mentally kicked himself for the bad thought, and continued."I'm upset because she isn't insulting me. I mean, I spew my best insults all over her and she doesn't even bat an eye! I'm going mental! It's so frustrating and so annoying! Who do you think she is? She's ignoring me. _Me. The _Draco Malfoy. Stupid bloody beaver."

Blaise shook his head at him, still laughing. A menacing glare from Draco made him stop and look slightly alarmed. _Better,_ Draco thought, _no use having him undermine my authority._

"You're angry because she's ignoring your insults."

"Yes!"

"And you're upset because she hasn't said a mean word to you in the past few weeks?"

"Yes, Merlin Zabini! How many times do I have to explain myself?" He shouted in exasperation.

"You're the most masochistic person I've ever met." Blaise said, shaking his head. The nerve of him. Draco would have murdered him right then and there if there wasn't the fact that he was supposed to meet with the girl of his living nightmares in less than ten minutes.

"Shut it."

"Mate," Blaise said gravely, placing a hand on his shoulder. Then the Italian's face broke out into a full blown grin. "You are so whipped."

He would blow that stupid grin off his face. Suddenly, a voice echoed from the doorway, "Who's got the Great Draco whipped?"

Draco turned around, momentarily distracted from his thoughts of murder and saw that the speaker was Theodore Nott. All thoughts of assassination came back to him again, but everything didn't just involve an idiotic Italian, but also another stupid, meddlesome and oblivious Slytherin.

He hadn't forgotten about the Nott-Granger stint. He should remind Nott that Granger wasn't someone that any self respecting Slytherin should associate with.

He smirked, thinking of how wrong Blaise was. Why would he go through all the _trouble_ of making sure that none of the danger-loving and entirely too stupid idiotic blokes that fancied themselves fancying a certain bushy haired brunette ever go near her monstrosity if he fancied her? Surely, warning-even as far as cursing and confunding-every bloke against her spoke _levels_ of how much he _hated_ her.

"Nott," Blaise greeted. "Where have you been?"

"Around." Theo gave them a chesire smile. "I've been studying in the library, and guess who I've passed on the way?"

_Please tell me it's not Granger._ Draco thought.

"Hermione!" Theo continued on, unconscious of the escalating murderous intent of his fellow housemate. "We talked about stuff, and then I asked her out to Hogsmeade!"

Blaise eyed him carefully, and ever determined to prove his best mate wrong, Draco wrestled his fury down and managed to choke out, "Did she agree?"

"Yes! I thought she wouldn't, but she did! I-"

Draco stood up, refusing to hear anything anymore. He refused to hear one of his closest friends fraternize with the mudblood. It was just wrong.

"Head's patrol. I'm late." He muttered, and then promptly strode towards the door, and out into the chilly dungeons.

* * *

"You're late." Hermione snapped as he emerged from the Dungeon's entrance.

"So what?" He challenged. "Let's just get this over with.

He stalked off, knowing her well enough to be sure that she would follow him. He was still pissed at Nott for asking Granger out, hell everyone knew that she wasn't one to be trifled with. _Four years_! Four years of blackmail, curses and general intimidation to keep everyone in line, and one of his closest mates managed to defy him.

_Bloody wanker._

He would _die_ before he'd let Granger defile one of his Slytherin comrades.

"Why have you been so broody lately, Malfoy?" Her feminine voice came quietly from beside him, pulling him out of his stupor. They were already in the charms corridor, and only a few more floors more from receiving freedom of her presence.

"None of your business." He said sharply.

"Well, I like helping my friends," she said slowly, obviously unsure of herself and her statement. "And since you've insisted to become one of mine, offering my help would be the least I can do after the slavery you've been through to get me to warm up to you."

"I don't want your help." He hissed, continuing on a pace that he knew she had trouble catching up on.

"But you need it," she said softly. "I can tell."

He rounded on her, pinning her against the corridor wall. It was almost dejavu, being in that position, but Draco was irritated enough to not care. He was sick of her being nice to him. He wanted her to insult him again.

And Salazar help him, he was going to do just that.

"I don't need you, or your pity, or your friendship, you filthy little mudblood." He hissed into her hair, and her scent sent shivers down his spine. Shivers of disgust, of course.

A look of shock scrunched up her delicate features, and dare he say it, a look of hurt was there too.

He should have been in cartwheels for knowing that he had hurt the muggleborn. But weirdly enough, he wasn't too happy about it.

"Do you really think of me like that, Malfoy?" She whimpered.

"Yes!" He snapped, frustration forcing him to speak the words that he knew would get him what he wanted.

"I... I thought that you wanted to be friends. I mean, you were so-"

"I was pretending, mudblood, I never wanted to be friends with you in the first place! You disgust me! Why would I ever want to demean myself and call you a _friend_." He said angrily, staring into her eyes and ignoring the twinges of other emotions that he had felt besides frustration and anger. He couldn't tell her that his father had coerced him into being nice to her, so he told her the next best thing. "Zabini dared me that I couldn't con you into befriending me, and thanks to you, I'm now a hundred galleons richer."

Surprise, shock, anger, fury, sadness and then understanding flitted across her eyes. Draco had trouble keeping up, good thing she was as transparent as glass. When she finally came out of her stupor, she said, "You can't make me believe that, Malfoy. You've changed. I know you have."

This fucking idiotic loyalty and failure to comprehend evil was making it harder for the both of them! Why oh why was she even this stubborn?!

"Changed?" He breathed, putting all the anger in his emotions and words. "I'm not _changed. _I'm still the hateful bastard that you know and abhor! Face it, Granger, you know that I haven't changed a bit! You're _deluding_ yourself if you think that I've suddenly discarded my devil's horns and replaced them with angel wings and a bloody halo!"

"You just say that, Malfoy! I know you do! You want everyone to think that you're evil; that you're dastardly; that you have no semblance of a heart or that you don't possess anything that makes us human. But you _do_! I know you do."

"You _know_ I do?" He said incredulously, taking in her defiant expression and matching it with his own. "News flash, mudblood, it's not every fucking time that you're _right_. I believe this time, you're _wrong_." He leaned closer towards her, staring her down solidly, "Why are you so sure that this isn't all pretend? That I'm not trying to trick you into liking the bastard that I am?"

"Because you're you." She stated simply. Not backing down from his murderous stare that would have melted any Slytherin into putty. Damn Gryffindor. "Your bark is infinitely worse than your bite. You spew insults out like they're candy on christmas day, but I don't think that you'd ever be _evil_ enough to do that to another person.

Merlin. _She_ trusted him. He could see it in her eyes. She _trusted_ him_._ Damn it. He acknowledged the guilt that had been coursing through him, what had been a trickle before now was a roaring river that wanted to consume him. She trusted _him_. That wouldn't do. He needed her to insult him, and apparently, her trust warranted that he was in her good books, meaning that no matter what dastardly act he did, he would never be at the receiving end of her gloriously well-witted fury, that he would never hear her insults, heartfelt enough and containing enough hate to be therapeutic. He couldn't have that.

He was going have to do _every_ damned evil thing in the book to get her to hate him again. He was _addicted_ to her fury, to her anger, to the intensity of the emotions that they exchanged whenever they had their verbal and violent spats. He was more than willing to do anything that would get that back.

The Dark Lord and his stupid initiation be damned.

He would probably survive _less_ longer if he failed to instigate fights with the mudblood anyway.

There was a moment of silence, filled with tension so thick that you'd need a chainsaw to hack through it. Then, she whispered, "You know why else I know that you don't hate me, Malfoy?"

He didn't dare move, and then she continued, "It's because now, we're so close, and you aren't even recoiling, or moving back. If you thought that I was the _scum_ that you insist I am, you would never have defiled yourself with being near one such as me."

Instantly, he retreated from her, stepping back a few steps. He put on a poker face, determined that she wouldn't see what he really felt. "You're wrong." He spat.

He took a deep breath, steadying and preparing himself to say the words that he knew he had needed to tell her.

"You're wrong. To me, you are _nothing_ more than an ugly, self obsessed, stuck-up mudblood who doesn't know where her place is. You insist that you know me, and how I think, but again, you're wrong. And I know why you're so adamant that whatever bullshit that I fed your _gullible_ mind was the truth- it's because you couldn't stand that I had managed to make you befriend me. You're _scared_ that now that you've let me in that everything was fake. And let me tell you right now, mudblood, it was."

She looked shocked, defiant, angry, for a moment, before her face crumbled into sadness. He felt his heart ache-which he of course attributed to heart burn, his family had a history of one, mind you- as he surveyed her pitiful form. "My, my, mudblood. I never knew that knocking you off your high horse would be this entertaining. My, how the mighty have fallen."

She bit her lip as tears threatened to fall from her humungous eyes. "I... I _trusted_ you."

His heart suddenly wrenched, almost making him double over in pain. He must have been having a heart attack. Damn all those nights of sneaking into the kitchen for midnight cookies. Then, he ignored the pain and put on his cold mask of nonchalance. "Your mistake."

Her whole face contorted in fury, but it was undeniable that she still acted as if he had broke her. Then, in a sob, she whispered, "Draco Malfoy, you are the vilest, evilest most undeserving of a chance slimy little cockroach that I've ever met. You're as unfeeling as a brick wall, and a flobberworm would have a heart bigger than you have. You're _insufferable_."

With that, she ran off into the night.

He had gotten his very much coveted fix of insults. He should have been celebrating, since he got what he wanted and got her to hate him to the core again.

So why was he slumping his shoulders in dejection? Why did he feel guilty? Why did he feel like feeding himself to the Giant Squid.

That was it. He was barking mad.

He probably needed to visit St. Mungos soon.

* * *

**A/n: P.S. I know that my version of Draco is slightly weird and overall bonkers, but he's cute right? I find his behavior cute. what can I say, I'm into this obsessive thing. **

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	6. Chapter Six--Present

**DISCLAIMER: SADLY, THE HP UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING IN IT(EVEN INCLUDING NARGLES) DON'T, IN ANYWAY, BELONG TO ME. WHICH IS SAD. REALLY SAD.**

**A/n : Hi guys! This is just a little in-between chappie to my flashbacks :D this was seriously different from the original scene that I had in mind, but I loved it, so I'm going to put it up anyway! Hope you'll like it! :D**

**Thank you to the people who favorited, followed and reviewed my little baby so far :) cookies for all of you, and specially large virtual cookie baskets for TooLazyToLogIn, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, Annabeth-Artemis for your lovely reviews :)**

**Hope you love this chappie as much as I had fun writing it! **

* * *

CHAPTER SIX - PRESENT

The smell of roses was unbearable.

"Get those damned things out of here!" He shouted at the intern donning stacks of the wretched vile shrubbery.

He stalked towards his office, glaring at the cowering healers and healer trainees. 3 years of working and running this place and no one ever remembered that he banned roses every valentines day. Or everyday, for that matter.

_Stupid, bloody idiots._

"Patricia, Patrice, Polly, whatever," he called out to his secretary, "Make sure that everyone gets rid of those damned roses on the corridors. Your predecessor should have told you that I'm _allergic_! This is a _hospital_, not a bloody house of love or some other _crap_ people call buildings on valentines."

His secretary's eyes went wide and she nodded meekly, rising from her desk.

"Get rid of them before I start my rounds, or I get rid of _you_, understand?" He growled. The smell still clinging to everything and making him agitated and nauseous.

He wasn't really allergic, but he hated roses. He hated them to the very core of the insides of their pollen infested flowers. He hated them because it reminded him of her.

_Stupid, bloody flowers._

He had a headache coming on, seeing that he had only drunk enough hangover potion to get him to his feet. Last night was a blur, and he would have given everything in his Gringotts vault to make today as blurry as the night before.

He sank down his office chair, groaning as he closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He knew that he should have forgone going to work, but without labor's distraction, he wasn't sure that he could survive the day.

He groaned again as he set his head on his desk, going for a quick kip before having to visit his patients, something that he hadn't bother doing yesterday-not that it mattered because he was sure that his select team of healers were more than happy to get rid of his overbearing presence. They had been with him mere months after he was elevated to chief of healing. And they knew how he worked and when to expect his rare absences. He felt a box squish and give way as he laid his head on his desk, looking down, he saw that there was a box of now-squashed chocolates dripping and making a mess on his table.

_Stupid, bloody chocolates._

With a quick scourgify, he had cleaned up the mess and chucked the box of offensive sweets onto the waste basket, scowling at it as it made a banging sound that was torture to his sore head.

"Oi mate, that was expensive!" A voice said from across his office. Surprised, Draco looked up and saw Theodore Nott leaning against the far wall, looking as haggard and bedraggled as Draco felt.

"I'll give you a galleon for your trouble." Draco snorted as he transfigured the chair that Blaise hated sitting on into a more comfier one.

"Come on mate, it's Valentines, can't you just feel the love in the air?"

Draco merely raised an eyebrow before motioning to the chair, "Sit."

Theo smirked at him and made his way towards the transfigured seat. He extended his arm and offered Draco a silver flask, "Hangover potion?"

"Already had my dose." Draco grunted. He couldn't help but wonder why Theo was here, so he chose the best method to use when getting information from a fellow Slytherin(save for bribery and coertion of course, but he didn't have the time, nor the energy, for such things)-bluntness. "Why are you here?"

"Can't I just want to visit a friend of mine? You know, without either of us being too intoxicated to string two sentences together?"

"Blaise says that every tuesday, and he _always_ has an ulterior motive." Draco deadpanned. "Spit it out, Nott. Why are you here?"

Theo's face fell, and his amused grin morphed into a troubled scowl. "I wanted to visit her grave today."

Draco's expression didn't change, but inside, he was fuming. How dare this man want to even visit her when he didn't even bother to attend her funeral rites, when he escaped to a whole new country after everything that had happened. He stared at one of his oldest mate's face, searching for something that he himself did not studied the man who had abandoned their camaraderie when Draco needed him to be there the most. He wondered if he was as hurt as Draco had been. He looked for signs that Theo had suffered too.

And, judging from his expression, Theo did.

"And what's stopping you?" Draco asked coldly, eyeing Theo with disdain.

"I don't know the location."

"Ask someone else."

"I already did." Theo frowned. "Everyone else told me to as _you_."

Draco shrugged, but ignored the question inlaid within Theo's question. The other Slytherin was wondering why he needed to go through Draco. _Let him wonder_, Draco thought bitterly, before saying, "Why now? After all these years, Nott, why _now_?"

"Because," Theo said, hiding his face in his hands, and letting out a strangled sigh. "Because it matters to me. Because I've just found my courage. Because she deserves it."

"And she _didn't_ deserve it six years ago?" Draco hissed, glaring at his friend. "Theo, out of the three of us, _you_ were the one who had the most courage! You stood up to bloody Voldemort when Blaise and I hadn't. Courage isn't an issue, it never was! And it _matters_ to you? _Did she not matter to you all those years ago?_"

Draco was huffing now, holding down his rage and his anger and gripping the sides of his desk to keep him from falling to the floor. He glared at the man that he thought he knew. He glared at him as he composed himself, looked up, and met his stare with a defiance that Draco had thought was lost.

"She _did_. _She_ mattered. You know, that she mattered to me." Theo said, standing up to level his gaze.

"Then why did you abandon us all those years ago?" Draco whispered, putting all the anger, bitterness and disappointment in his words.

"You... You wouldn't understand." Theo replied, finally breaking their eye contact and slumping tiredly on his seat.

"Try me, Nott."

"You _won't_." Theo breathed, fighting to keep his face straight.

"Why _wouldn't_ I?" Draco challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you've always, _always_ been there when she needed you! Because you've never disappointed her. Because_ she chose you_!" Theo screamed, his semblance of calm thrown aside and replaced with a stormy fury that was almost identical to the one Draco was sporting. The blonde's secretary stared at Draco questioningly, silently asking if the guards were needed. Sighing, Draco shook his head. He watched his secretary walk out of the guest area of his office and lock the door behind her. He then reverted his attention to the shaking man. "You wouldn't understand. You _never_ would, because you have _never_ stood on the sidelines. You were always there for her. Beside her. Near her. _Always_. I just... Drake... Just this once, _trust me_ when I say that you wouldn't understand."

"She was _mine_!" He shouted, rage coursing through him. "What _right_ have you got? Barging in here and demanding to see the grave that you had flat out refused to see six years ago?"

"She was my friend-"

"You should have been there for her, then. Until the end. But you _weren't_. So why should I let you visit her six years too late?"

"And that is the exact reason why I know you'll never understand. Don't you get it, Drake? I'm _guilty_. I'm _ashamed_. I'm _hating_ myself because I never had been there for her enough. Listen to me, _please_. Forgive me if I abandoned you, because honestly, at that time, it was the only thing that I can do without going completely _mad_. Hear me out, mate. _She_ would have, you know."

Draco nodded, not really understanding his friend, but he was his friend, even if he abandoned him during the time when Draco had most needed him. He studied him again, in a new light, without the bias and the contempt. It wasn't easy letting go of the anger long enough for him to try to comprehend Theo, but Draco knew that Hermione would've done it if she was the one standing before Theo. And that thought alone made him willing enough to let the man explain.

But before the blonde could say a word, Theo lifted his face and looked at him with the expression that unnerved Draco.

"You're not the only one who loved her, Drake. I did. _I still do_."

It was like a bucket of cold water to his face.

In all of their years together, before and after Hermione's death, Draco had never once heard Theo say that he loved her.

Not _once_.

Maybe that was why Draco thought that Theo didn't.

Draco didn't know that his raven-haired housemate felt for Hermione as intensely as he did. He didn't know. And he had always assumed that he was alone in his suffering, that the rest of the world had forgotten about her, that he was the only one whose life orbited the now-gone planet called Granger. He thought that when Theo left, he left to forget about the girl that they had both loved. And maybe he did leave to forget, but it looked like he was still plagued by memories of her as much as Draco was. He thought that his friend stopped caring the moment he refused to see her.

And observing Theo, he knew he was wrong.

So wrong.

"Theo..." Draco started, not even knowing what to say, and there was sudden tension. Tension filled with bitterness, anger, jealousy and regret. So much of regret.

"I fell in love with her during an Arithmancy exam." Theo started, ignoring Draco and seemingly lost in his own world. Draco fell back to his chair, not knowing how to react. He was listening to another man recount stories about her. He wasn't sure if he wanted to punch Theo in the face, or open a bottle of Odgen's finest that they could share. "At least, I think I did. Maybe I started to love her before that, or maybe I fell in love with her later, but that was the earliest memory that I could associate with seeing her in a new light, you know? It was sixth year, sunny, but as usual, bone-numbing-chilly in Professor Vector's classroom. Her hair was up in a messy bun, with a hundred little strands escaping their tie, she was writing like a maniac on her paper, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, and when she turned towards me, she frowned, thinking that I was cheating. When she realized that I wasn't, she smiled. And I thought that she was _beautiful_."

Draco almost snorted at the sappiness. Was he this sappy when he talked about Hermione? He shuddered. He was annoyed at Theo, but somehow, he understood him. She _was_ beautiful. But she wasn't _only_ beautiful when she smiled. She was beautiful when she scowled, she was beautiful when she screamed bloody murder at him-cheeks cherry red and eyes storming with fury-, she was beautiful when she was absorbed in reading one of her many books, she was beautiful when she looked deep in thought and oblivious to the world, she was beautiful while she slept- hell, she was even beautiful when she had come down with a bad case of the cold; even with her nose stuffed and her eyes red and her lips dry and her ears puffing out smoke, she was _beautiful_.

She always had been.

Draco shook himself from his trance, just in time to hear Theo's next words, "-and that's why you have _no_ right to keep her grave's location from me, mate. She wasn't yours."

"I beg to differ." He answered, glaring at Theo, but the other man silenced him with a pleading look.

"She was mostly yours. You owned the most of the parts of her heart, but she gave us pieces too, Drake. She loved us too. And I loved her. I loved her and all that she was. She was it for me. And it was like a kick to the balls when I realized that although I held a piece of her heart, it was just a midget compared to your share."

Draco nodded, prodding him to go on, secretly pleased that Theo was acknowledging that Hermione was Draco's.

_She would smack me in the head for acting like she was a possession._ Draco thought, smiling internally.

Here he was again, missing her.

Although, there never was a moment that he wasn't missing her.

"For me, everything related to her was different." Draco said slowly, softly, carefully, as if talking about him loving her was a delicate process. "I fell for her worst qualities first, before I even noticed all the good things about her. She was stubborn to a fault. She argued and challenged me, and there were times that were were both frustrated and downright angry, almost to the point of _homicide_ on both our parts. She was as sarcastic as they came and her retorts never failed to make me want to strangle her. She loved cats and you know I hate those mangy furballs. She talked nonstop-it was like gift she had-it was annoying; _she_ was annoying. And _I was scared of her hair_." Draco smiled, "I used to think that she was _born_ to irritate and infuriate me."

"And then I found myself _loving_ that she would stubbornly stay true to her beliefs, even if it meant that she got hurt or ostracized because of them. I admired her wit and courage to stand up to me, and everyone else as long as she thought she was right, and our debates thrilled me to no end. I even found myself desperate to argue again when she started to ignore me. I found her sarcasm was refreshing, and acknowledged that her comebacks were always intelligent. Her cat though, I still _hated_ it. But I had grudgingly respected her for so being _patient_ in dealing with that kneazle. I realized that when she talked, it was always passionate, and I would find myself mesmerized as she droned on and on, even when the subject was about house elf liberation fronts or something as _batshit crazy_. I didn't mind her babbling anymore, because it wasn't mindless, and admit it, she was hot when she tried to talk your ears off."

Blaise chuckled, nodding, and Draco continued, "And her hair. Her _hair_. Nothing compares to it now." Blaise nodded again in agreement, smiling as he thought of her untamable brunette locks too.

"It looks like when she died, she gave us every sappy tendency that she had _and_ stripped us of being the manly, unfeeling slytherins that we once were. We could pose as twelve year old schoolgirls and none of them would even notice." Blaise laughed quietly, and Draco nodded. They were being pansies.

Eventually, the two of them settled into a companionable silence. Draco took a deep breath, settling down in his chair as the memories flooded him. Each a bittersweet reminded of the love that he had and lost.

"You know, I didn't fall for her gradually, hell, I was never aware that I was falling for her in the first place! It was like one moment, I hated the very ground that she walked on, and the next, I didn't anymore. Not in the _least_. And then it hit me, like a bludger to the head-I loved her _long_ before I knew I did."

Theo smiled and answered, "She had a way of ensnaring you when you least expect it."

"Yeah." Draco whispered, and then in a teasing voice, he added, "But I, for one, would think that she would have a coronary if she found out that she was the reason why you failed that particular exam. I remember father gloating to your dad about me getting a higher score than you did."

"She would have apologized over and over again. But I didn't really care, I sucked at arithmancy anyway. Plus, I was a lovestruck fool, remember?"

"And you still act like one."

Theo snorted. "This is a prime example of the saying about a pot calling a cauldron black. You're worse than I am mate."

"Whatever. I'll write you the lot number and other details." Draco finally conceded. "You might be surprised though, about the amount of protective spells. She was a Hero of the War, and too many people tried to visit her those first few months, and there were even cases of others trying to steal her bones." Draco chuckled, and the tension dissipated. "I think I almost committed murder when I caught a particular idiot digging at her grave. I put the mother of all wards there, and now, only a few of us visit, since only a few of us had been given the location. I'm secret keeper. And I trust that this won't fall to public hands, yeah?"

"Of course." Theo snorted, giving Draco a what-do-you-think-I-am look. His expression was neutral now, but his eyes were still slightly red.

Theo moved to take the slip of paper from Draco's hand, giving him a handshake and a nod in the process. He turned on his heel, and just as he was outside Draco's office door, he turned around and gave the blonde a smile.

"Who knew a speech would move you enough to tell me?" Theo chuckled, but Draco knew that the speech had been sincere. "Blaise even told me to prepare to empty my trust fund just to get you to tell me the general location."

"Har-har. You may think that I'm going soft, but I'm not. Just, don't take all day, okay? I get her all to myself after four." Draco chuckled. "Now, get out of her before I make you listen to a speech of my own."

"Seriously though, Draco," Theo said softly, looking at him with gratitude and understanding and a touch of remorse that made Draco doubt if the two of them had ever been Slytherins. "Thank you."

And then Theo disapparated.

He was left alone.

He was left in silence.

He was left to his thoughts.

And all of his cheerful facade slipped away.

As he settled back on his chair, he picked up the stacks of paperwork on his desk, deciding to do a little work before going to do his rounds. He shouted obscenities when a particularly sharp edged sheet sliced through his index finger, quite deeply, eliciting a thin wound.

He lifted his finger closer to inspect the damage, and he watched as his scarlet blood flow slowly down to pool on his pale, shaking palm.

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**A/n: So, thoughts on this chappie? :) Review please! Pm or review any questions that you have, since I know that I'm a bit featherbrained and get distracted easily, I might get things mixed up or something :D**

**review review review 3**


	7. Chapter Seven--Flashback

**DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE.**

**A/n: I know, I'm a lousy update-er, but I've been busy this past week! I swear! Sorry sorry sorry sorry!**

**This chapter is kinda confusing, and slightly ooc, but essential nonetheless, hope you guys enjoy it!**

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October 18

Lying there, his emotions being hidden in the dark, he knew that he shouldn't have been thinking about Granger.

He knew that he should have been proud of the damage that he had obviously wrecked on her psyche. He knew that the tiny twinges of guilt that he felt every time he saw her should be cast away, buried under the deepest recesses of his mind. He wanted to ignore those little extra feelings-feelings that he knew would have easily gotten him killed.

But in the dark, he could pretend that he wasn't Draco Malfoy.

He could pretend that it was okay to be bothered because he upset someone in a class that was socially and financially lower than he was in.

He could pretend that the only thing stopping him from apologizing was his pride. And that the only thing that stopped him from groveling for her forgiveness was the fact that his reputation would go down the toilet if he did so.

This was it. He was officially going bonkers.

He was a disgrace to his Pureblood ancestry.

His father had already told him as much. The old man had pitched a fit when he learned that Draco wasn't even close to befriending Granger, but he had reasoned out that she was proving to be stubborn to crack and the bastard and dreadful excuse of a father that he had pointed out the consequences of failing the mission.

Not only he would die, but also his mother would be tortured and then killed, most probably in front of him.

He couldn't have that.

But with his eyes closed, he could almost begin to consider measures that would get him back in the good graces of company that he knew he didn't deserve.

He allowed himself to fear the future, to fear what would happen to Granger if he picked up his ruse and befriended her again. But there was just something about her that made him hesitate to use her. There was a part of him that didn't want to involve her in the Evil Git's dastardly plans. There was a part of his conscience screaming at him to stop toying with her and to leave her alone. It would be hard getting back into her good graces, but the stakes were raised higher this time. And this time, he couldn't let his emotions get the better if him. This time, he couldn't afford to fail.

He opened his eyes with a start.

There was a loud banging sound coming from the common room. Immediately, he grasped his wand, making his way silently down to the source of the crashing sounds. slowly, he descended through his book case, alert and ready.

The sight almost made him laugh his balls off.

There was Hermione Granger, picking out books at random from her bookshelf and screaming loudly in frustration. She was probably trying to get into her room, but in her obviously drunk state, couldn't remember which book she chose as her password.

'Hermione Granger drunk. Who knew I'd see the day.' He smirked to himself. But then he frowned as he remembered the slight disagreement that they were having. Okay, so slight might be an understatement. She was still furious at him, and it bothered him. And it disconcerted him that he was bothered. He was going mad.

She had ignored him since that night. The atmosphere between them had reverted back to the usual tensed rivalry, but this time, she was resigned and dare he say it, sad. Needless to say, he was flabbergasted. A furious, screaming, insult-throwing, face-punching and hotheaded Granger, he could handle, but one who only looked at him with those sad, brown eyes when he insulted her _unnerved_ him to his very core. His plan had backfired on him, and instead of getting his usual dose of her derogatory comments(which he had matched with equal fervor) he had gotten none at all-save of course for her retorts during their epic fight. It was making him crazy that she was ignoring him, and not just the ignoring-his-insults sense, but in the ignoring-him-completely sense.

He knew he had disappointed her.

What he didn't know is why he was _bothered_ by her reaction.

"Malfoy!" Hermione drawled as she noticed his leaning form. "What are you doing here?"

"It looks like your inebriation has addled your brain, Granger, too much FireWhiskey at that stupid victory party?"

"i think they spiked the punch." She giggled, then she gave him another frown. "You still haven't answered my question, you know. Why are you here?"

He snorted, crossing his arms. "In case you don't recall, I live here."

"Right." The witch mumbled as she tried to pull another book. Then, she turned to him, eyes bright and smile wide, making her way unsteadily towards him. What is it with her and emotions? One moment, she was sad, disappointed, then she was happy, then angry, now she was happy again.

It was _scary_.

"What are you doing, Granger? I don't like that expression." Draco muttered, raising his wand at her, but she just giggled and stumbled towards him, and in a fit of complete lack of self preservation, he reached out to catch her fall.

He shouldn't have.

Electricity surge through his hands as he grasped her shoulders, steadying the witch. He inhaled sharply as her scent mixed with the strong odor of alcohol assaulted him, making him dizzy and light headed. Seeing his reaction to her proximity, he concluded that his body must have been appalled by her closeness. That was the only plausible explanation. He refused to acknowledge anything else.

"Hi." She said gaily, plopping down to the sofa and bringing him down with her.

He only raised an eyebrow, confused, but curious as to what she was obviously trying to do. He wanted to throw her off his arms, but he remembered his task. He frowned before slapping on one of his trademark smirks. "Hello to you too, Granger. Alcohol really did addle your senses. Last time I checked, you wouldn't have touched me with a thirty foot pole."

"Nah, I was only slightly angry at you." She babbled. "I was more on disappointed, silly!" It was like a slap to the face, having to hear the words out loud. "And that's why we need to talk."

The brunette frowned seriously, but the image she was trying to project was ruined by her hiccuping and then proceeding to giggle madly. Draco tried to wrench her arm from her hand, but she had a death grip on him, which was surprisingly strong for someone so pissed drunk.

"Let go of me, your filth is ruining my robes!" He exclaimed, before he could remind himself to be nice, still trying to pry off his arm. "Why are you even drunk? I thought you were too prissy for this sort of behavior?"

She frowned, obviously trying to think of an answer and ignoring his pleas for freedom, "I think... I think that Ron gave me the wrong cup! You see, I always make a point of purifying my drink before drinking. Yeah, that's right! Then everyone kept giving me drinks and I downed about... Ten! No, _twelve_! I drank twelve of them before Ron brought me back here! I should better go and thank him!"

Before Draco could even process what she was saying, she let go of him and shot off towards the door. He observed her, amused by her apparent loss of direction. Suddenly, she turned back towards him, eyes bright but slightly off balance.

"Maybe I should kiss him! Yes! Parvati told me that it was proper to kiss anyone who was really nice to you!"

In an instant, Draco had dragged her back to her seat, arm firmly clamped around her waist, preventing her from standing up. "You," he said through gritted teeth. "Should stay here. We have to talk, remember?"

"Yeah." She hiccuped. "But I have to kiss Ron! And maybe Theo too! He also helped me get here, you know."

His grip tightened around her. He was disgusted at the mental images that she was forcing him to visualize. Her, kissing the weasel. Her, kissing Theo. It was too much. It was disgusting. He shuddered with contempt.

She was struggling in his grip, and he had to think fast to make her stay. "You can do that tomorrow. What did you want to talk about?"

"Everything and nothing and oh, I can't seem to remember!" Hermione giggled, almost knocking Draco's head off as she stretched her arms out in exasperation.

"Well, I haven't got all night." He sighed, still keeping her in place.

"And that's why I have to thank Ron and Theo now, because it would be too late later!" She said, rising up and this time, she was too quick for him to catch. Even as pissed drunk as this, Granger was as flighty as a fox.

He watched her zigzag across their common room, squashing a scale replica of a thestral that she had been building and toppling a rather tall stack of books that were placed near her desk. Grinning in amusement, he decided to let her find the door, knowing that in her state, she most likely never would.

It was a bad idea.

As soon as Draco sat back and relaxed, Hermione tripped over one of her precious tomes and proceeded to fall headfirst, bringing down a vase of flowers with her. With the resounding crash, he wouldn't have been surprised if half the Hogwarts population woke up and stormed to their rooms.

"Look at the mess you've made!" Draco growled in frustration. He expected her to get up, but she didn't. Then, he noticed that she was rocking back and forth, cradling her hand as tears fell down from her half concealed face.

She lifted her face up to him, and his breath hitched as he took in her tear stained face and large, pleading eyes. "Malfoy," she whimpered, sounding like a little girl. She sat down abruptly pulling him closer with her uninjured arm, forcing him to look at her hand which had a large shard from the vase poking out.

"Shit, Granger." He said, taking her light small hand into his and poking it carefully. "This has got to hurt."

"It does." She sobbed, acting like a little girl and piercing him again with those large, dark, pleading eyes. "Draco, Draco, it hurts."

Something in him snapped. He didn't know if it was her tears, or if it was the way she sobbed out his name, or if it was something in her gaze. Draco Malfoy didn't know, but suddenly, the panic and anxiety at seeing her hurt was pushed back in his mind and was replaced by a sense of eerie calm.

"Let me look at you hand again, Granger." He whispered, reaching for her hand, but she recoiled, looking at his outstretched hand warily.

"No." She gasped, fighting back another choked sob.

"And why the hell not?" He asked, slightly irritated now.

"Because... Because when you pull out the shard..." She said, "You're going to see my blood."

"A little bit of mud can be washed off, I'm sure." He said, but he shuddered inside. Touching her blood would stain him in ways that he never would want to be stained. But he took pity in her, he didn't know why, but he did.

"Why do you think that my blood is filthy?"

"Because you're muggle spawn."

"Why do you hate muggles so much?" She asked, still cradling her hand away from him.

"Because I was taught to hate you." He sighed, "What's with all the questions?"

"That's not enough of a reason," she argued.

"I'd have you know that my ancestors had a right to hate those putrid muggles." Draco snapped, glaring at his pissed drunk companion, forgetting her injury as he rose to defend his ancestry. "Care to remember the famous Roman witch persecutions? I'm sure your larger than life brain knows all about that era!"

"Those were harmless!" Hermione exclaimed her child like self gone, now that she was in the heat of an argument, not noticing Draco's expression turning into stormy rage. "True witches could have protected themselves adequately! The only ones who got harmed were muggles!"

"Harmless?" Draco hissed. "You call wiping out dozens of wizarding families' mothers amd daughters _harmless_? Have you ever _read_ a history book?"

Hermione looked offended. "Of course I _have_!"

"You've read the wrong ones, then, If you don't know." Draco sneered. "My ancestors coexisted with yours peacefully, until the start of the attacks. They helped those good for nothing muggles with their everyday needs, even tried to teach them magic! And what do they get? Our of the 170 women burned that day, 12 of them were Malfoys and our immediate family. Eighty other women were witches ratted on by their stupid jealous muggle neighbours. You have no right to judge our hate on those vile creatures. They left my ancestors motherless, childless, and betrayed!"

"That was a thousand years ago, Malfoy!" She said, blushing from the heat from drinking the alcohol. "That isn't true today! Muggles aren't as deluded as they were back then?"

"Tell me, Granger, would they hesitate to cut me open to find out where my magic comes from? Would they hesitate to abuse my powers? Would they hesitate to rob us of our magical knowledge?"

That shut her up.

"No, they won't." He said smugly. "They're still as barbaric as they were a thousand years ago."

"As barbaric as _murdering_ innocent people because of their blood?" She scoffed, quickly drowning another drink.

"Don't you understand, Granger?" Draco hissed. "I grew up to hate your kind, the same as my forefathers did because of the actions of your kind! You can't judge me for hating them, because I have good reason to do so!"

"But I can judge you if you take that hatred and turn it into fuel for killing!" She screeched, eyes dark as she staggered towards him, still cradling her injured hand. "You group muggles into categories, like you could create stereotypes, but you can't, Malfoy! You can't. It's not all black and white. There are a hundred shades of gray, you of all people should understand that, since it's pretty obvious that you're toeing the line of good and evil! You can't say muggles are evil because of the actions of a minority. You can't generalize people because they aren't meant to be grouped together and judged! Not every muggle acts like the swine you say they are, the same as not every pureblood acts like the perfect human beings you think you are. Look at Goyle and Crabbe, my cat has more brain cells than those two put together!"

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "I'm not finished yet!" She shouted. "You go and follow your little old Voldemort, but you fail to even comprehend that your precious leader is a _halfblood_. His blood is half mud, yet you still follow him! He's a hypocritical bastard."

"I follow him because my father does, Granger, and not because I believe that muggles are meant to be killed. Hated, yes, but killed? Even I cannot stomach anything like that. You go talking about prejudice and being judgmental, when you yourself group us pureblood children as stereotypical junior death eaters. Have you ever stopped to consider that we might not agree to all the bullshit voldemort spits at us? Do you ever stop to consider that we know we're in the wrong, but we're in too deep to even get out of the dark? Don't you think that we stay under his shadow because we _have_ to? Not because we _want_ to?" He stood up, glaring at her and daring her to say anything more. She gaped at him, bewildered. What she said had bothered him, but he saw that his words' impact was far greater than hers. His vision swayed, and he glanced at the now empty bottle at the table in front of them.

"I don't even know why I'm defending myself against you. You're a muggle. Your blood is mud."

He looked at her, hating her to her very core, and with the alcohol stripping him away of his inhibitions, he found himself wishing that her blood wasn't mud.

Maybe then, he could allow himself to not hate her.

But she was made of _mud_.

And that was enough reason to detest her.

She stood up, trying to catch his arm, but falling a foot short and landing in a heap of broken glass. He waited for her to stand up, to berate him of his actions, and to tell him off.

But she didn't.

Instead, she looked up at him, childishness back and anger gone. This woman had moodswings that could kill. Fixing her gaze at him again, she mumbled something incoherently, and she started to curl herself into a tighter ball.

"What was that again, Granger?" He said, barely keeping his fury in check. They were in the middle of an argument, for heaven's sake. He made a mental note to never let Granger drink ever again.

"I said," she exhaled, then she showed him her injured hand. "My blood's not made of mud."

And he saw it. Without the shard hindering the flow of blood, a steady ribbon was streaming out of the wound.

And Merlin, she was _right_, it wasn't mud.

He looked at her with surprise, trying to see if she had enchanted her blood to look normal, but in the state of her drunkenness, he doubted that even she could perform simple spells, much less glamour her own blood.

"See, Draco?" She said, voice soft and sad. "You're wrong. My blood's not mud. It's _not_."

Then, in a blur, she had brought down the shard to his own palm. "What the fuck are you doing Granger?" He said through gritted teeth as his own injury spurted out blood that was so much like hers.

"Trying to prove a point." She said, and she flashed him a smile. The kind of smile that she gave her friends, the kind of smile that he thought he would never receive again.

He missed that smile.

He kicked himself mentally, forcing to concentrate on his injured hand, and trying to find his wand. But before he could pull it back, she grasped him tightly, smile gone and staring at him instead.

He wanted to curse her, to berate her, to tell her to sod off. But he couldn't. He was still in shock, seeing tangible proof that everything he was taught to hate was not as disgusting as his ancestors had said.

If they lied about the blood, then what else did they lie about?

Thinking about it make him sick. He wanted to retch, to deny the fact that their blood was as alike as anything could ever be. He sat in silence as he was forced to reconsider his beliefs, beliefs that he had so steadfastly held on to even as his pureblood world crumbled around him; beliefs that he now knew was wrong.

She tugged at his injured hand, moving it closer to hers and comparing their pools of blood. "Now, Draco, do you still think that my muggle blood is any different from yours? That it's dirtier? They're the same, Draco. And no matter how hard you wish that they aren't, they are. In the end, we're all just skin and bones and blood. The same. Underneath, we're all the same."

Again, he wanted to prove her wrong, but the words wouldn't come. He wanted to look away, but her gaze held his in place. He wanted her to take back everything that she had said, but he knew that she wouldn't.

Because she was right.

"I... I'm sorry for thinking that you had a choice in following Voldemort." She mumbled, and he felt himself kneel down towards her, straining to hear her muffled words.

"I didn't." He said, tired all of a sudden. "And- I'm only saying this because you probably won't remember anything tomorrow- I'm sorry too."

"You're apologizing?" She asked, lifting her head slightly, enough to stare at him, surprise evident in her bottomless eyes.

"Don't sound so surprised," He grumbled, sitting on the floor by her. He finally found his wand by the couch, and wordlessly, he summoned it towards him. After cleaning up the mess that they had made, he reached out towards her, saying, "Give me your hand."

"What are you going to do with it?" She asked suspiciously, but nevertheless extending hers towards him.

"I'm going to put the dark mark on it." He said sarcastically, as he examined it again. The blood flow had lessened, but blood was still gushing out of the wand. "This is going to itch, Granger."

He healed the cut, now not caring that his own hand was covered in her blood. Her blood that wasn't mud. He knew that the shock would wear off and the implications of everything that he had found out today would haunt him time and time again, but he would deal with that tomorrow.

He was in the process of healing his own injury, when the brunette beside him spoke up and said, "That's it? You're not disgusted of me anymore?"

"Why should I be?"

"Because you hate me."

"I'm in shock," he shrugged. "I'm probably going to be in denial tomorrow, but tonight, I can't deal with anything. Too much information. I'd probably go back to hating you in a day or two, when I'd have verified that the only lie father taught me was that muggle blood was mud."

She bit her lip, watching him for a second before saying, "But... I don't want you to hate me."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn't comment. Here was another surprise. This girl was going to give him a heart attack from all the revelations that she was feeding him. He could see that she was uncomfortable, but there was a resolve in her eyes that tipped him off that she wasn't going to back away from this conversation.

"I want to be your friend."

"You want to be my friend?" He asked skeptically.

"Yes." She slurred, and he remembered that she was still pissed drunk. It wasn't obvious though, but judging from the way her movements were slow and uncoordinated, she was still inebriated. "I still think that you're an arrogant asshole, but I'd like us to cooperate."

"So you think that the solution is us being friends?"

She nodded, "it's the easiest option. I could always tie you and threaten to feed you to the Giant Squid if you don't help me with our duties."

He snorted at that, "We might as well be, seeing as I don't think that the Squid would be adverse to eating human flesh. And right now, I'm still in shock and therefore, don't hate you as much as I normally do."

He told himself that his eagerness to accept her offer of friendship was because it was the only way to keep his mother safe. But even he couldn't convince himself that that was the whole truth.

"Friends?"

"Friends." He nodded, "But I still think you're an insufferable know-it-all.

"I wouldn't expect less, you pompous git." She smirked.

He helped her up, seeing as she looked like she was going to topple over once she tries to stand up. "Now, do you remember your bloody book password?"

"No," she giggled, back to being a child again.

He sighed in frustration. He was going to make sure that she would never as much as taste anything alcoholic again. This night took years away from him, what with the outbursts of emotion and information.

He felt her collapse at his side, and when he glanced at her, he was sure that she had passed out. He cursed at her, trying to wake her up, but she was dead to the world. Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulled her close, carrying her towards his room.

"Granger, I'm going to let you sleep in my room, okay?" He said with softness that surprised him. Since when did he talk to his enemies kindly? Good thing that she was knackered enough to not even remember him being so nice. His reputation would go down to the toilet otherwise.

He set her on the bed, taking off her shoes and tucking the duvet at her side. Who could have guessed that he would be doing this for the enemy that he had despised mere hours ago? It was all messed up. He called for an elf and made him transfigure her clothes into green and silver bed clothes.

he watched her for a few more moments, taking in her appearance and smirking at the events that unfolded. He might have discovered that his entire belief system was based on lies, but he got to be friends with her again, therefore keeping his mother safe.

At least for the moment.

he transfigured his armchair into another bed, he climbed in, stripping his clothes before collapsing underneath the comfortable duvet. He sneaked another glance at his unexpected roommate.

She would be shocked at her state of clothing and location when she woke up from her deep slumber.

She was bound to kill him tomorrow.

He chuckled at the thought.

* * *

**A/n: There you go!**

**Elased: Hi! :D thank you! I love present Draco too :) yes, this is a drama, and no. A tradgedy. This is also not a ghost story. And this fic is DHr until the end. That being said, I guess it's pretty obvious that all is not as it seems :) You'll find out in the next few chappies! ;) thanks for the review!**

**Francie: Most of my teachers say that too :/ thanks for pointing it out, though :) I promise to work on it! :) **

**Review pretty please? :) **


	8. Chapter Eight--Present

**Disclaimer: not mine boohoo.**

**A/n: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! I've been away aNd running errands and have been so knackered that I can barely put two and two together, much less a whole story! So I'm really really really sorry!**

**Any way, hoped you like this chappie! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Eight-Present**

With a quick spell, he healed the wound. He evanescoed away the blood. And soon, there was nothing left to prove that he was cut. But his mind was still searing from the memory.

It was probably the first time that he had thought of her in a light that wasn't shrouded in disgust. He had spent a week after that avoiding her, thinking that if they could forget the incident, then it wouldn't be true.

But she was as stubborn as they came. She made him talk to her, and then, as cliche as it sounded, he saw the light.

Merlin, he _was_ such a pansy.

Chuckling at the thought, he swiveled in his office chair, allowing himself to remember all her little quirks and amusing antics. Her fiery temper, and her propensity for getting herself into trouble- a trait that he had once thought that Potter had possessed, but contrary to popular belief, it was his Hermione that acted as a magnet to all things dangerous.

No wonder he had been irrevocably, completely, _absolutely_ pulled to her.

A knock came from the door, and a hair of red popped from the opening, dragging with her the boy who just wouldn't die. He put his head in his hands, cursing himself for forgetting about this little yearly check ups that the stupidly idiotically happy couple did every year.

"Malfoy." The redhead grinned, giving him a hug-a _hug (_ew_)._ Five years of this and he still hated it every time she did this. Annoying overly friendly redhead.

"Weaslette." He said, giving her back two pats before extricating himself from her vice like grip. Potter gave him a pat on the shoulder, and the two made themselves comfortable on his office chairs. He was never going to escape these meetings, wasn't he?

"How are you doing, mate?" Potter said, gruffly, trying to act cheerful. Draco was sure that he had been roped into this by the Weaslette, so he gave the other man a nod and shrugged in reply.

Did he expect him to be alright? The love of his life died five years from today. He _should_ have been wallowing in the pits of _sorrow_, if Draco had his way. It was a wonder that he wasn't intoxicated by now.

"I'm fine." He settled, not really guilty over lying to the savior of the wizarding world. He was still slightly angry towards Potter. Though admittedly, his bitterness was irrational, but no amount of thinking himself out of it could stamp down the thoughts of accusation.

_He_ was there when Hermione died. There when her life, her precious and too-short-lived life, was cut off from her human body. _Potter_ was there when she fought for her last few breaths, whispering things to him. Those last few words should have belonged to _Draco_. He was supposed to have that last remnant of her. But _no_. Bloody fucking Potter manages to steal a piece of her that should have belonged to Draco.

He gets to have another memory of her added to his endless vault of memories of Hermione Granger.

It angered him, even until now.

And deep, deep down. In the recesses of his mind, he couldn't help but put a little blame on the man sitting before him. The proclaimed hero. Dark Lord slayer. Saviour of the World.

If he could save the world, then why couldn't he have saved his best friend?

He saw that Potter understood why he thought that way. Hell, he was plagued by the notion too. Whereas Draco couldn't sleep from the loss of his beloved. Harry couldn't sleep from the guilt of not being able to save his best friend.

And that was why Draco had never called him out on it. It was why Draco left Potter alone. It was why they decided to be civil.

He was suffering too.

It had been a surprise, a month after Hermione's death, that the golden couple had come barging into the manor, along with Blaise, and made him presentable. He knew that it had probably been a request from Hermione-to keep him from slipping back into the dark chasm he was in before her. His life was split into two definitive categories. With her and without her.

She probably knew that his existence, without her, would be bleak at _best_.

So she decided to _unleash_ her bloody friends on him.

She must have been drunk when she made the Weaslette promise to keep track of him.

"We're going to visit her grave today," Ginny said after a few minutes of pointless blabber, fake enthusiasm palpable. "Do you want to accompany us?"

"No."

"But, Malfoy, you-"

"I said _no_." He said with finality, using the tone of voice that had always made her stop bothering him.

"Don't talk to her like that." Potter snapped, frowning at him. He met his hateful stare with equal intensity.

"Alright." She whispered softly, sensing his hurt beneath his stone-cold farce. "We'll make sure that no one can get in after six, yeah?"

He nodded slowly, trying to show her his appreciation without words. "Yes, that would be convenient."

He didn't need to add thanks. The redhead knew that it was already there.

They left not soon after that, but not before hounding him for a few more minutes. He shook his head at their dedication to get him to include them in his grief. It was probably hard for the two, going there every month then every just to see how their sworn enemy was coping from the loss of their best friend. Granger must have threatened them pretty well, to keep them coming back to his snarky self without fail.

Or maybe she didn't have to threaten them. She was good at getting what she wanted.

No wonder she caught him.

He chuckled softly, imagining her slapping him upside the head for that comment. She would then berate him and rant and talk his ear off some more while he would sit and stare at her and wonder how he ever managed to make someone as beautiful as her fall in love with him.

It was a fluke of nature.

But it was a fluke that he had treasured while it lasted.

He stopped his train of thoughts.

Thinking about their happy times would just lead to him thinking about how he missed her. And missing her was never good. Missing her led to drinking copious amounts of liquor. Copious amounts of liquor led to hallucinations of her. And the loss of those hallucinations would sucker punch his heart and rip open the stitches all over again.

_No_. He wasn't supposed to think like this. Grieving could come later. He needed to be sane if he wanted to last through the day.

"Penny!" He called from his desk.

No answer. Damn, it was probably the wrong name. "Polly!"

Wrong again.

"Pattie?"

Finally, the woman turned, saying, "It's Andy, sir."

"I could've sworn that your name started with a P." He muttered to himself. "Give me the permanent patient files. I want to do my rounds today."

"Right away, sir." His secretary squeaked, turning and summoning a stack of hospital records, levitating them to his desk. "And sir, you have to meet the architect from Australia tomorrow."

"Architect?"

"Yes sir, the one who's supposed to design the new Dragon Pox Wing She wants you to finalize and approve her designs before she gives them to the contractors."

"Right." Draco said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he catalogued the information. Standing up, he picked up the stack and strode towards his office door. "I'll be back after lunch."

* * *

"James." Draco said, approaching the aging man with his stack of papers. "How are you feeling today?"

"Same as yesterday, kid." The old man laughed, grinning at Draco. "Same as yesterday. How are you doing, Drake?"

"Same as yesterday, old man." He smirked. He examined his chart, jotting down notes on his papers. He moved to the old man, examining his eyes with his wand light. "Same as yesterday. How about you? How about you? How are you doing?"

He had always been kind to his patients. Most of the staff was amazed at his transformation whenever he came close to his patients. One intern even tried to exorcise him after working with him in his office then seeing him with an elderly lady. It was absurd. Of course he would be nice to them. Draco Malfoy was benevolent and giving. Sometimes. Maybe only with his patients. And the occasional child.

"I want to see my Amelia." James said. "I miss her. But those idiotic interns you keep sending in here aren't letting me."

"They're all idiots, I know." Draco sighed, trying to find a way to break the news to James. "Wait, no one's told you yet?"

"They've already briefed me about the amnesia, if that's what you're asking." James chuckled. "I am on unlucky bastard, aren't I? Now, could you please just take me to my wife? She'd love to have me beside her."

"They haven't told you yet." Draco said gravely. "Bloody idiots."

Told me what?" James demanded, demeanor changing, fear clouding his features.

The wizard had been in a burglary accident a two years ago. He was one of Draco's first patients as Department Head. His head had been hit with an unknown curse. After a week, he started showing signs of brain damage, and forgetfulness. After another week, the full effect of the curse surfaced. Since then, couldn't retain new, day-to-day information.

His wife had been with him when they fought off the thieves. The curse used on her had been fatal, and she died just a day after James's amnesia started.

Draco didn't know if it was a blessing, or a curse.

Draco steeled himself, getting ready for one of the most difficult things with being a Healer. Telling the patient the tragic news.

"James..." He began to say, "She's gone."

"Gone?" The old man said, confused. "What do you mean, _gone_?"

"She died three weeks after you two were admitted here."

"But... I just saw her _yesterday_!" The old man whispered in horror. There was no kicking and screaming. Today was one of his good days. "She can't be dead. _No_."

Draco felt his heart twist for him. James was now sobbing on his pillow, an expression of horror clouding his elderly features.

In moments like this, he actually felt lucky that he was given a chance to move on.

He couldn't bear to think of how it would feel if he had to go through the pain of losing Hermione every day. He couldn't bear going through the confusion, disbelief, and the hope that maybe it wasn't true-that she would just barge into the room and tell him that it was an elaborate joke.

"Take me to her."

"I can't she's not here anymore, James." Draco said. "She's been dead for two years."

"No. It's impossible. No. No. No." The old man wailed, sobbing. "She can't be _dead_! My _Amelia_ can't be dead! _No_."

"Calm down James, your working your heart out."

"_Calm down_? You're asking me to calm down!" James shouted at him. "I just learned that my wife's been dead for two years! Two years that I have absolutely no memory of! Two years! Take me to her grave site."

"We can't let you out." Draco protested. This was common with James. Sometimes, he tricked managed to trick the interns, but Draco was never there when he came to this stage. Frankly, the young man didn't know what to do.

Draco was about to call a mediwitch, when James grabbed his arm and whispered, "Do you have a wife?"

"No." He answered gruffly, trying to shake the man's hands off.

"Then you must be in love with someone."

"I... I am." He confessed. Not about her. Not today. "She died during the war."

"Then you must know how I feel, son." James pleaded. "What if you were in my shoes? Wouldn't you want to see what's become of her too?"

He nodded, and he called the mediwitch and arranged for her to transport James to Amelia's gravesite.

"Thank you."

"You use that line a lot, don't you?"

"What line?" James said, "I don't remember anything from the past two years."

Draco sighed, knowing that what he said was true.

Thirty minutes later, they were standing in front of Amelia's grave site.

"She would've liked this spot, you know." The old man said, smiling at his surroundings.

"How did you do it?" Draco asked out of the blue.

"Do what?"

"Move on so quickly?" Draco muttered quietly, bowing his head. "It hasn't even been a day and you're already at peace with the thought of losing her."

"I'm old, son." The old man answered. "We've had years together, and I understand that someday, one of us is bound to leave the other. I'm just glad that she isn't the one experiencing the pain of losing me. You said you've loved before, you know that you'd do anything to make the other person happy, to take away their pain. I'm at peace, son. But that _doesn't_ mean that I'm not in pain."

Draco nodded silently, feeling jealous at James's contentment. Maybe if he had more time with Hermione, then he wouldn't feel like crap everyday.

"Tell me about her." The old man said, sitting down on the grass and patting down on the spot next to him. Draco was reluctant to soil his immaculate healer's robes, but he sat down nonetheless.

"I hated her for the first six years that we knew each other." Draco sighed. "My... My family had been blood suprematists and they drilled every core pureblood virtue in my head. It blinded me to her. Blinded me of her."

He sighed again, feeling an onslaught of regret. "But everything changed on our seventh year. I had always been fascinated by her, but then I began to notice her, positively. She was so good on the surface, but she was remarkable once you got to know her. She was kind, forgiving, strong, caring, every positive word that you could find in a dictionary. Those were the traits that made me like her. The traits that made me love her were her flaws. She had dozens of them, but I loved every single one. She was stubborn. Her temper rivaled mine. She was a thousand different positive and negative things, and I would never want that to change. I loved her just as she was."

"I was an incorrigible little git, as she always like to articulate." Draco chuckled. And he heard James laugh beside him. "Imagine my surprise when she started noticing me back. She was beautiful, but it was a beauty that crept up on you, just as she did. I was hating her one minute, and the next, I found that I'd die for her. It was disorienting, but it also made me deliriously happy. There she was, unreachable, unthinkable, pure, immaculate, bright. And there I was, broken, stressed to the point of insanity, an asshole, a jerk, a douchebag. And yet she gave me a chance. She pried open my heart and lodged herself there. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get rid of her. Eventually, I accepted the whole situation and there we were. We weren't just Draco and Hermione, two sworn rivals. We were Draco and Hermione, kids who were so deeply in love, it was a wonder no one found out until we were ready to tell them."

"Hermione?" James asked. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yeah." He answered. "I'm in love with Hermione Granger. If you told me that I'd love her this much eight years go, I would have gotten my father to send you to an asylum. But now, there is absolutely no denying the fact that I am in love with her, and I'll probably continue to do so until I'm as old and shriveled up as you, old man."

James chuckled. "And when she died, I shattered. She was the only thing that tethered me to the world. I think I went insane for a while, and I decided that she would kick my arse for being such a pathetic sod. She was amazing like that, and I love her for it. I _love_ her, and that will always be a truth in my universe. Even though she's dead. Even though I'll never get to see her anymore. Even though she's gone. I'll continue to be hers."

Draco gave James one of his rare smiles, saying, "Tell me about Amelia."

"She and I met on a saturday." James smiled. "She was wearing a silky yellow dress, with her raven hair curled around her face, and her blue eyes sparkling-and boy did they sparkle- with happiness. She was like an angel, and right then and there, I _swear_ I fell in love with her. Her parents just moved in town and apparently, our parents were the best of friends. They took me to meet her. She was seven and I was nine. As young as that, I knew that she was the one that I wanted by my side, if she would have me. And I could tell that she did. She looked at the same way that I looked at her, like we were each other's _stars_."

"Back then, we were living in a little town north of London. It was small, quaint, and everyone knew each other. I had been horrible to her during those first few years, showing her my affection in the only way a nine-year-old new how; by bullying her. I teased her relentlessly, just to get her attention. I bet she hated me during those years. But everything changed during the summer before I went to Hogwarts, when she dared me to kiss her. And I actually tried. I was eleven then, I think. Seeing her run away from me made me realize that I _didn't_ want her to. That I would never want her to. So I started to avoid her, ignoring her mostly, but when we did talk, I was civil to her. I left for Hogwarts, and didn't get to see her again after I graduated, since she and her parents moved to France. I was eighteen and she was sixteen when we finally got to meet again. They had just moved back, and boy, she was as beautiful as the first day that we met. And I knew that someone as special as her would be taken soon. So I cleaned up my act and started wooing her."

"Our dads used to joke about us falling in love when we grew up, but they never believed that we'd really fall in love. Her father even threatened me with a bludgeon if I ever hurt her. That summer, we had the time of our lives, and when it was about to end, she told me that she had to go back to France. She was studying at Beauxbatons then, and I was scared that she'd be snatched up by some French idiot. It was our first fight. I didn't want her to go back to France without me, and she refused to let me even visit. It was frustrating. There were some shouting. Slamming doors. She even broke a figurine or two. You'd think, from all the drama and noise, that we were already married, not just kids who had been together for less than a summer. She kicked me out of the house and I flashed back to the time when I was eleven. Her walking away. Her running away from me. I couldn't stand it. So I _stayed_. Slept outside her door. It was stupid, but I loved her, so I didn't care. I think I convinced her that I wasn't messing with her after that night. Years later, we were still together. It was a bumpy experience, but all that mattered was us, you know?"

"After her graduation at muggle university, I proposed. Our wedding was big, everyone was there. And even then, she was _beautiful_. She was_ breath taking_. And she was _mine. _As I am_ hers_. My Amelia."

"You're lucky to have had a life with her," Draco whispered, closing his eyes and imaging having a chance with that kind of life with Hermione.

"I am." James smiled. But Draco, you still do, you know."

"I refuse to find another." Draco said adamantly.

"No, that isn't what I meant," James explained softly. "I'm guessing that you found the forever kind of love with Ms. Granger. Just like I did with my Amelia... And that kind of love doesn't disappear, it's the kind of love that you never give up on, young man, there's a reason why you call it forever."

"She's dead. There's no forever if one of you is dead." Draco said, steuggling to keep his emptions at bay.

"She's not dead, as long as you remember her, she'll never die. She's still right there." James pointed to his heart. "And very much alive right there." The old man then pointed to his head.

"She won't ever die if you keep her there. And if she'll never die, you can live your life with her. You can live your life with her there forever."

* * *

**A/n: can anyone guess the song I used for inspiration with James's story? I think that it's pretty obvious ;))**

**review! :) **


	9. Chapter Nine--Flashback

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize that's not mine :)**

**A/n: Hey guys! An early update, I know! Amazing, right? I put in a quote in there, and it has something to do with the Selection series(which I am currently inlove in; Team Maxon since Day 1!h), and I want to see if you guys can find it ;) I changed it a bit, to suit the perspective, but it's still there, mostly. It happens to be one of my favorite quotes between Maxon and America! Because I find it really sweet :))**

**And yes, it was mary's song! :))**

**Thank you, jjaacckkiiee, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, Guest, Annabeth-Artemis, for the reviews! Elased, Thank you for the review and I'm not going to confirm or deny *hint hint wink wink* your theory ;) keep posted to see if you're right! :)**

**Happy Reading everyone!**

* * *

Chapter 9-Flashback

_November 6, 1998_

Just a few more steps... A few more steps and he would reach their common room. He would reach the safety of privacy. He would reach it and die without having to worry about lost first years discovering his mangled body.

Just a couple more _steps_.

He spoke the password to the knight and cursed briefly as he saw the stairs. Damn. He would bleed his body dry before he could even get halfway through those bloody steps. Steeling himself from the pain of his injuries-most of which he had already tried to heal, but only managed to patch up inadequately, had opened up during his initial trip towards their dorms.

"_Damn_." He muttered as he felt the nausea gripping him again. He latched onto the bannister, making his body take another excruciating step.

"Malfoy?" A voice said from above. "Malfoy is that you?"

"No, it's the Dark Lord trying to go up our stairs, Granger." He drawled, trying to mask the pain in his voice. No one know about his current condition. The repercussions from the school knowing that he was being beaten an inch from death by his own father would be disastrous at best. And his reputation would go down the drain if they found out that he was tortured because he refused to partake in the killing of that little muggle family.

He could almost see their faces, judging him because he had only watched and hadn't done anything as the death eaters tortured and mutilated their bodies beyond recognition.

The only reason that he wasn't _killed_ because his mission of befriending Granger was apparently absolutely important.

"It's past curfew. You shouldn't be out so late. The students follow our example, you know."

"I'm an hour late. Boo hoo. Now run along Granger, I know that you have a gigantic tome to probably get back to."

She ignored his dig. Ever since the night that she came home pissed drunk, she had been pestering him like this. This was probably her way of showing 'friendship'. No wonder she only had a few friends. "What are you doing? You're just standing there. Come on up, we have to talk about the upcoming events McGonagall told us about yesterday." She demanded, frowning at him. It was lucky that it was dark in the hidden hallway, without any windows or fires providing light. He could easily hide the blood gushing from his wounds.

"I'm admiring the bannister, if you must know." He said, struggling to keep his voice even. His breathing was becoming ragged, and his vision was dimming. He had to get to his room. He had a stash of dithany there. If only Granger would move her nosey butt out of the way. "It's very intricately carved. Such a piece of art. Oak? Or probably redwood, I can't tell from the light. And just because we're trying to be friends doesn't mean that you can boss me around all day."

"After a failed truce and a brutally shot down attempt at friendship, I think I know that by now." She snorted. "And what are you really doing down there. I can tell that you're lying about why you're really staying down there, you know."

His eyes widened in shock. How did she know? He was an _immaculate_ liar.

"None of your business." He snapped, gritting his teeth as he fought to stay conscious.

"Don't tell me that you've brought a girl up here, you slimy pig!" Hermione huffed, raising her wand and lighting up the dark corners. "You know that that's against the rules! And we have work to do! Heads business is more important than your current squeeze of the week. You better have gone by know, whoever you are, or I won't hesitate to dock-"

She stopped mid threat, shining the light to him and taking in his complete bloody and mangled state. "Malfoy! What the _fuck_ happened to you?"

She rushed over to him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "It seems like the image of me bloody and looking like an animal attacked me is enough to get a curse word out of you. I should show up like this more often, if only to get you to stop being such a prissy goody-two-shoe and let me break some of the rules."

She scoffed as she ran the wand light down his form, examining his injuries. "I was just surprised. These look serious. You could get heavy blood loss if you don't get this patched up soon. Let's get you to the hospital wing. Can you walk?"

"Of course I can." He huffed indignantly. But the edge from his voice was lost due to the pain that he couldn't continue to hide feeling. He felt faint, and he vaguely registered the brunette trying to get his focus.

"Malfoy, let's go. You need to get healed."

"No." He said, feeling himself get weaker and weaker. "I can't. You can't take me _there_."

She started to protest, but with the last of he strength, he managed to whispered gruffly, "_Please_."

And he promptly passed out (he refused to acknowledge the term '_fainted_'. Malfoys do _not_ faint) in the arms of Hermione Granger.

He woke up to the feeling of sledgehammers massaging his head. Groaning, he surveyed his surroundings, taking in that he was in the common room, lying in a transfigured bed. The duvet was making him itch, and the pillows were rough (he was used to his 500 thread Egyptian cotton blanket and his silk pillows, of course), but he couldn't care less because of the soreness radiating from a dozen parts of his body. Stretching and feeling his muscles and weak bones protest, he tried to sit up. But he found that his head was too heavy to even contemplate movement.

"Good, you're awake." A feminine voice said from beside him. "Drink this."

He looked at the potion bottle with distrust. His mind was still slow and groggy, but the practice of never trusting anyone was drilled to his skull.

Hermione snorted, and he turned towards her, but his vision was blurry and it was too bright to open his eyes fully. "Malfoy, if I wanted you _dead_, I would have left you on the stairs to bleed to death. Now, drink the bloody potion."

Grunting, he obliged. Nodding his head at hear, but he stopped abruptly, since the pain was too much. She tipped the sea-glass bottle's contents into his mouth, and he struggled to swallow. After a few moments, he felt the pain begin to recede and his vision starting to clear.

"Water." He rasped, and he felt her shift beside him. A second later, a cool glass of water was pressed to his lips, and he drank greedily, parched and dehydrated.

"Most of your wounds were superficial, but judging from the state you were in, it was lucky that you don't have any internal hemorrhaging. You had a couple of broken ribs and two of your fingers were fractured. I fed you skellegrow, but they should still be a bit sore. Try to flex your fingers and toes. I have to make sure that they're all working properly. Some of your wounds were bone-deep."

"Does anyone know?" He asked as he flexed his fingers and toes.

"You almost died from blood-loss and you're making sure that no one knew about your little state right now? Trying to assess your reputation?" Hermione tutted as she watched his flexing. "All seems to be in order. Looks like you didn't lose any extremities."

"Answer my question, Granger." He said, trying to divert his attention from the pain.

"You're in no condition to be so bossy. I saved your life, if you don't notice." She said sarcastically. "But to answer your question, no one knows. I cleaned up the blood trails after I got your condition stable."

"You didn't tell anyone?" He asks skeptically, eyebrows raising and snapping his eyes to her murky brown ones, trying to see if she was lying. Surely someone as rule-abiding as Granger would have ratted him out.

"No." She answered simply, looking away from him and busying herself with the potions scattered around his desk.

"Why?" She mumbled something incoherent and he struggled to catch her words. "What was that, Granger? I didn't quite hear you."

"You..." She said, biting her lip and looking as if she was waging an internal battle. "You said... Please."

"Please?"

"Yeah." She said, nodding.

"Who knew saying 'please' was the way to get you to do anything." He smirked as she frowned.

"Shut up. Be glad that I didn't turn you in." She said, frowning at him. Then his stomach rumbled loudly, ands he chuckled at his embarrassment. "I best get breakfast. Don"t move a muscle! And I mean that in a literal sense, your body is still healing."

She turned, heading towards the Heads' kitchen bookshelf and descending the set of stairs that appeared. Not really knowing what to do and completely ignoring what Hermione said, he looked around the common room and it looked like a tornado had come by for a visit. Parchment was everywhere, and books were littered around. Blood was almost everywhere, and a pile of his discarded clothes were bundled at the corner.

She came back holding a steaming bowl of porridge and sat beside him. He noted that her expression was worried and anxious as she examined him again. But other than that, she didn't seem the least bit fazed at the whole situation. He wondered why was that.

"It looks like a hurricane came by here." He said, trying to joke as he tried to raise his arms to gesture at the mess.

"I needed to double check spells." She shrugged, glaring at him until he stopped moving. "You're lucky I'm familiar with most of them now. And it's mostly because Harry and Ron get the most horrific injuries when they play Quidditch.

"So is that the reason why you're so calm about this situation?" He asked, genuinely curious. "Potter and Weasley always showing up at midnight half beaten to death?"

"So is that what happened to you? You were beaten?" She asked, mostly curious. But apparently appalled at the thought. "And I wasn't bothered as much because I've had a day coming to terms with the situation."

"A day?" He asked, surprised, ignoring her question. He'd been knocked out for more than 24 hours?

She nodded, as she spooned some of the porridge. "Open up, let's get you eating."

"Spoon feeding me now? Did you knock your head on something?" He said, befuddled. "That can come later, I want my questions answered."

"You can eat while you ask your questions."

She fed him a spoon of the sludgy porridge and surprisingly, he found it quite good. Not that he'd ever tell her that. "Did you have fun while you undressed me?"

She blushed crimson and she shoved the next spoon roughly into his mouth, clashing it against his teeth painfully. "You'd be dead if I didn't get your shirt and trousers off. Spineless ungrateful git. But if you must know, I had to magically remove them. I'm lucky that you didn't have any injuries down there, or I'd be the one who's dead. From _disgust_."

"Too bad," he mocked winking at her suggestively, but to Granger, it probably looked like a spasm, "Maybe you should check."

"No thanks," she mocked gagged as she fed him another spoon.

He chuckled, swallowing the creamy porridge. "How did you know I was lying?"

"What? When? For you, lying is like food. Can't for a day without it. It goes hand and hand with the sarcasm and egocentric attitude." She said, smirking at him while he frowned at her.

"Whatever." He said. "About the bannister. How did you know I was lying?"

"Our staircase bannister is made of metal." She shrugged. Feeding him another spoonful. "You told me you thought it was wood, which would be impossible because wood wouldn't feel as bitingly cold as the metal did."

"Trust you to notice such an insignificant detail." He smirked, pulling at his bandages, wanting to see how his wounds looked like.

"Don't touch those." She said irritably, batting away his hand. "They're still fine. They'll change color if you need to change them. If you need my help, just tell me and I'll assist you."

"Want to see me topless again, do you?" He asked cheekily, grinning at her suggestively.

"Merlin no, you're a pig."

"Admit it Granger, you're attracted to me. Who _wouldn't_ be?"

"Err, everyone who's sane?" She said, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Everyone from Slytherin is throwing themselves at me." He pointed out, smirking at her.

"That just proves my point." She retorted. "No one from Slytherin is right in the head."

"Maybe," he shrugged, admittedly, his housemates were a _bit_ off their rockers. But everyone else threw themselves at him. Except for Granger. he gestured towards his body, where his abs were currently on display, "You want a piece of this."

"I wouldn't _touch_ you with a ten foot pole. You know that." She said, frowning at him seriously. Before bursting into mocking laughter.

Her statement hurt him, but just a tiny weenie minuscule bit. He had an ego too, you know. But it didn't faze him as he continued his inquisition.

"Why go through all of this trouble from me. From what I can tell from last thursday's argument, you still hated the very ground I walk on."

"Because we've agreed to be friends. This is me _trying_ to treat you as my friend." She said, giving him a smirk and then tentatively smiling at him before reverting back to the smirk that could almost rival his own. "You're being nice yourself, well, as nice as you could probably be. You've gotten loony now, haven't you?"

He laughed mockingly, raising an eyebrow at her before trying to give her a smile (which was unnecessary, but he deemed that he needed to do it for his mission-at least, that's what he's telling himself). "This is me _trying_ to _thank_ you. But I still think you're an annoying know-it-all."

"And I still think that you're an egotistical asshole."

She smiled back at him at this, and tentatively, he could feel the roots of their friendship starting to take hold on solid ground. There was another quiet smile between them. Their friendship—if you could even call it that—was obviously awkward and flawed, but at least it was honest. Well, maybe not in his part. He was still adamant in thinking thay this was all for the mission. But, suddenly, it wasn't as forced anymore. It was just there, naturally existing, albeit it was a small and delicate existence, between two people who could have sworn that they would hate each other until the day they died.

It was a kind of magic in its own right.

And Draco was determined to make it grow and bloom. His life depended on his mission, and he wanted befriending Hermione to be a success because of that.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

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**A/n: See the quote? See the quote? See the quote? **

**Anyone else currently loving the Selection trilogy? I've never even considered making a fic because I already love how things have played out with America, Maxon, and Aspen! :)**

**Liked it? Hated it? Review! :)**


	10. Chapter Ten--Present

**DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE**

**a/n: A wild update appears! It's kinda short, but I promise you longer chapters later on. I'm kinda busy with sitting in some classes at the local uni. I don't know what possessed me to take the advanced classes. But yeah.**

**No one guessed the quote, which makes me kinda sad :( it was actually:**

**"We shared a quiet smile-our friendship-if you could call it that- was obviously awkward and flawed, but at least it was honest."**

**yeah. And I've been receiving less reviews. :( which kinda makes an author sad. Which kinda makes them want to stop writing. Just saying.**

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Chapter ten-Present

47 days.

After that weekend, it took him only 47 days to admit to himself that he was simply, deeply, unquestionably, ridiculously in _love_ with Hermione Granger.

Forty seven days of mental torture.

One thousand one hundred and twenty eight hours of pure confusion.

Sixty seven thousand six hundred and eighty minutes of asking if he was going bonkers.

Four million sixty thousand eight hundred seconds spent on wondering if she had somehow slipped a love potion into his porridge.

Because after that weekend, everything had changed.

He no longer thought that her kindness was just a front to please their professors. He no longer thought that her antics were insane, rather, he found them quite endearing. He found that he no longer hated the very ground that she walked on. He found that he no longer thought that her blood was dirty. He found that he was starting to look at her in a way that would send generations of blood suprematists into a spasms in their graves.

That weekend marked the tipping point.

The beginning of their tragedy.

The end of his sanity.

He started to teeter between the line of absolute hate and complete devotion.

And when he finally admitted the fact to himself, forty seven days later, he was already on a nine-hundred-mile-an-hour free fall to the depths of an unfamiliar abyss.

Everything had _changed_.

At least, for Draco, it did.

He chuckled lightly, remembering how his protectiveness of her had increased ten fold over night, and how he waged mental wars with himself over something as simple as the thought of the possibility that he might have had fallen hook, line, and sinker for his sworn enemy.

He could still remember stalking her through lessons, trying to see where she was off to and if she was alone, he would accidentally-on-purpose bump into her. Even setting Longbottom's and Parkinson's cauldron on fire, just so he could be made partners with her in potions.

He had acted exactly like how a spoiled, manipulative, cunning slytherin would when faced with the complex absurdity of love. And it took him forty seven days to figure that the malady that he kept complaining about (lightheadedness, a propensity for blushing whenever Granger was around, sweaty palms, eyes never seeming to be able to leave her person, insomnia, and clumsiness) was actually _love_. And when he realized he had it, it was already too late. He was caught in its clutches and too far gone.

He didn't stand a chance.

Swiveling in his office chair, he remembered how _curious_ it was, convincing yourself that you hate the only girl that you'd ever bothered to give a second glance (or a third, or a fourth, or a fifth, and so on until he had reached an impossible amount of glances and he was forced to just stare at the sight of her), while trying to befriend her despite the confusion, since your life depended on it.

The only plus side during those forty seven days was that his father had actually been quite pleased with him-a first in his seventeen years of living. The old snake was always delighted of his progress, but he never failed to remind Draco that his Hermione was in fact, just a mudblood. Only to be tricked and teased, but never to be regarded as an actual acquaintance.

Little did the late Malfoy patriarch know that his son's feelings for the so called 'mudblood' was already way past that of an acquaintance.

Lucius should have known what would happen.

But then again, Lucius wasn't aware of the allure that Hermione Granger held.

And of how much it had affected Draco.

Sometimes, Draco wished that he had fallen in love with a different person. Or at _least_, followed his ancestors' footsteps and married someone who wasn't on the top of evil wizards' most wanted list. It would get rid of about three quarters of his problems and he'd wake up to a wife and a child, instead of an empty apartment filled with equally empty bottles of whiskey and gin. He could have led a mediocre life. A life that was set for him centuries ago. An anguish-free, calm, normal life.

And then he'd remember the way that she said his name, rolling the syllables in her mouth, tone playful and yet sarcastic, eyes on fire and eyebrows raised.

He'd remember how she yelled at him, hair everywhere and cheeks flushed red. He'd remember how she'd touch him randomly, as if she was making sure that he was really there. He'd remember doing the same, not quite believing yet hoping that what they had was real. He'd remember the endless hours of peace, of quiet, when she read and when he was absorbed in memorizing every feature of her. He'd remember how much he liked it when she smiled her special smile. He'd remember how it felt like to be in love with Hermione Granger.

And he'd _know_.

He'd know that he didn't want mediocre. He didn't want anguish-free. He didn't want calm. He didn't want normal. Now if it meant living without the chance of ever falling in love with her. know that no matter how many chances he would be given at stopping himself from falling for his Hermione, he wouldn't change a thing.

He'd know that no matter what he made himself choose, he'd always come back to her.

Always.

Loving her wasn't something that he had held influence over. Loving her wasn't something that he could stop on a whim, and he was pretty sure that you'd first see the Earth stopping in its orbit before he could stop his feelings for her. Loving her was the only thing that he was absolutely certain of. Loving her was worth all this. It did before. It still does now. And it always _will_.

He swiveled again, taking in his office and letting the memories flow through. Around and around, colors blurring together as he let his memories touch him. Sometimes, on good days, life was like this-spent in the appreciation of the gift that Merlin had given him. On good days, he wouldn't feel the overwhelming sadness, or the self-blame. On good days, he allowed himself to feel.

To feel his love for her.

He took the picture of them together again, and brought it out, letting the sunlight illuminate the grainy photograph. He sighed, tracing the line of her jaw as she laughed gaily. What he wouldn't sacrifice to have her by his side again. Until they both grew old and wrinkled. Or even for just a year. Just a month. Just a week. Just a _day_.

He'd give _anything_ to have her back.

Forty seven days. He'd wasted forty seven days because of his stupid pride. He could have had forty seven more days of complete bliss. Forty seven days of being able to look at her with abandon. Forty seven days of more.

By now, his spinning had stopped.

But the memories still continued.

After that weekend, she had saved him again, just the day after that weekend. This time, from getting tossed into the Great Lake by a stray bludger(idiotic hufflepuffs had been practicing for Quidditch, how they managed to lose their bludger all the way over to the Great Lake, he'll never know). She had pushed him out of the way, and put herself in direct path of the bludger. It had hit her with full force, managing to shatter her forearm and even cracking a few ribs. What was more, the impact had made her lose her balance and fall into the Lake.

That time, he had known that any self respecting Slytherin would laugh at the little muggleborn for falling into the lake. Had he been not indebted to her, or had he not harbored any feelings for her, he would have laughed his arse off. But instead, he had hexed the idiot who chortled before diving promptly into the lake. Clothes and all. It wasn't his greatest moment.

But that was the moment that the teetering of his feelings from that weekend had managed to plunge towards the positive.

And before he knew it, he was already in a nosedive, falling for her, with no means of stopping his descent.

He chuckled again, staring at his ceiling, feeling nostalgic. He was happy whenever he thought of her.

It was the feelings after that made him crumple.

And surely enough, the gnawing feeling of missing her appeared, soon to be followed by regret, remorse, anger, helplessness, sadness, depression and hopelessness. All in a parade. All stepping on his already torn up heart.

He blinked back a few tears, struggling to reign in the emotions. Before, normally, whenever he was faced with a situation like this, he would think of the Malfoy's second most revered and followed motto: "Malfoys do not show emotion", but since he had already chucked the first one out of his metaphorical window ("Mudbloods are beneath our notice and should be treated like the dirt that they are"), at seventeen, he figured that he might as well get rid of the whole rulebook. But things like that would have come in handy during situations like this.

He sighed, blinking back the tears -tears! She had turned him into a woman- he stood up and fixed his suit, making sure that it was in it's usual impeccable state. Taking his things with him, he decided that he might as well leave early, and hunt for the newest trinket that he would place on her grave.

"Paula, I'm leaving." He called out to his secretary as he stepped inside the floo, and with the whoosh of emerald green flames, he was gone.

Andy looked up from her desk. After three months of this kind of behavior, she was used to it. At first, she was sure that he was going to get sacked, but she knew now from gossiping with the interns and some of the healers that her boss practically owned the Hospital, and that he was the best in his field. He got work done too, surprisingly, because from what she could glean from his behavior, he was either staring into space, sobbing, drunk, or generally acting depressed. It was astonishing that their department was the best-run one.

No one really did tell her what was up with her handsome boss. He seemed to be the type that women chased , salivated over, and generally threw themselves at him. But she never did see him with anyone other than his usual group of friends. Others assume that he dueled for the other side, but Andy knew better.

Draco Malfoy had someone important. Some lady friend. Someone that he had apparently lost. She had seen the pictures, they were all grainy, and never fully showing her face. Her eyes, her lips, the back of her head, her silhouetted profile, but they were all of the same woman.

She pitied her boss that mostly everyone called a monster. Because in truth, she knew that he wasn't.

He was just someone who missed his love.

Really, _really_, missed his love.

It was sad, really.

She didn't know what she would do if she ever lost her Sarah. She felt another wave of sympathy as her office floo rang.

A head of a rather pretty woman popped out, smiling at her jovially. "Andy, wasn't it? I'm here to confirm tomorrow's lunch meeting?"

"Yes, he's up for it." She said, smiling kindly. She liked the woman. Most architects were either snobbish or plain rude, simply because their profession was so rare in the wizarding world and their colleagues were the creme de la creme of every generation.

"Good to know." The lady smiled, "Thanks, Andy. And call me Maja (Ma-huh), remember? Ma'am is so formal!"

Andy chuckled, liking her even more. Maybe her boss would stop being so depressed if he would take interest in looking at other women for once, here was Miss Maja Wilkins, perfectly beautiful. He was seriously missing out. Maybe she could schedule their meeting in a fancy restaurant or something. Who knows? They could hit it off, and she could stop fidgeting to call the wizarding suicide hotline whenever Mr. Malfoy had one of his episodes. "Alright, Miss Maja. I'll send you the location via owl later, I haven't made reservations yet, you see. Mr. Malfoy is quite picky with his meetings."

It's alright, from what I've heard of the man, he has every right to be," Maja chuckled. "I'll see you soon then, hopefully, I can't wait to be back!"

And with that, her head disappeared from the flames.

Andy immediately set to reserving a table at the most romantic restaurant in London.

Who knew, maybe someday, she'd be able to brag about arranging the great Draco Malfoy's first encounter with wife.

She couldn't help but giggle at the thought.

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**A/n: there now, all done :) hoped you liked it, I'llCatchYouIfYouFall, thanks for the continued support! And thanks for the review, guest.**

**THIS IS STILL A DMHG PAIRING. And I'm informing you now before you start hating me for introducing him to Maja! :)**

**review guys! I swear it's hard writing a story without knowing how it's sitting with your readers!**


	11. Chapter Eleven--Flashback

**DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE,**

**A/N:**

**Guys! Thank you for all your reviews! I really appreciated it!**

**Annabeth-Artemis- it's okay, dear! Thank you, ThatAvidReader616-Not abandoning this yet ;) , Bicycletracks-I am too, but I just can't figure out how it would play out yet! :), Adams- OMG! Yay! I love Maxon, don't you? Thank you :), I'llCatchYouIfYouFall-I'll keep that in mind. Thanks! :), Alaina- Thank you!, Stormy33- thank you! :D, Elased- yeah, that's why she's not that famous in this fic :), Ramyfan- Andy's eccentric, but she's good at her job and she doesn't flirt with out favorite blonde, so he keeps her ;) thank you :), MusicAngel913-thank you! I won't :) **

**hope you guys review again, this made me really happy!**

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Chapter Eleven

_November 7-Flashback_

"Why are we even doing this again?" Blaise whispered from beside him, flashing the blonde an irritated look.

Draco frowned, pulling the Italians head down even farther into the bush, just in case they would be spotted. "Shut up, I'm trying to listen to them!"

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Blaise said in exasperation, as he unstuck a prickly branch from his cashmere sweater. "We're in Hogsmeade. In a _bush_. Hiding from the rest of the student population. I know that you're bonkers but this is too much, even for you. So explain now before I stand up and holler and alert whoever it is that you're eavesdropping into that you're spying on them."

Draco momentarily glanced away from the laughing couple sitting on the bench near them. He narrowed his eyes at the Italian, and whispered vehemently, "You wouldn't dare."

"You _know_ I would."

"Just keep your mouth shut, Zabini. You owe me." Draco reminded him, threatening with his eyes. Any other man would have balked at his glare, but Blaise, who had been on the receiving end of the famous Malfoy stare since they were old enough to crawl, was immune to it.

"I do. But when I told you that I'd trade a favor off for your potions essay, I didn't mean that you could drag me into shrubbery without even a proper explanation." Blaise said indignantly, eyes showing Draco that his threat before was not a bluff.

"I saved you from Uncle Sev's wrath. But fine." Draco huffed. "We're here to spy on Nott. But don't think that you've paid enough for the favor. I want you to do one more thing."

"We're spying on Nott?" Blaise asked, ignoring the blonde's reminder about the favor. "Isn't he on a date with the mudblood?"

"Don't call her that." Draco snapped, frowning even deeper. Blaise raised an eyebrow at the blonde's defense and Draco shrugged, saying, "I have to stop calling her that. Breaking the habit doesn't help when you hear it everywhere."

"Whatever you say, Drake." Blaise said, not entirely convinced. But he let it go. He was used to the blonde's quirks and seriously faulty logic. Especially when it came to Granger.

Draco gave him another glare before he tuned back in to Nott and Granger's conversation. He himself didn't know how this whole spying thing was worth his Hogsmeade visit. But Nott was shady (whoever goes about professing himself fancying Granger, was shady in Draco's books) and Granger, being the bint who usually had a 'Hurt Me' sign on her forehead, wouldn't pick up on anything malicious until it was too late.

It was his job as Head Boy to make sure that the Head Girl didn't find herself incapable of doing work(in situations such as, death, or the like). Granger was usually the one who did both their paperwork. He _hated_ paperwork. That was why he was going to such lengths to ensure her safety, right?

_Right_.

"I don't like strawberry, actually." Hermione's voice said, surprising Draco because it sounded as if she was giggling. The bookworm never giggled. At least, not in his presence. He frowned at the thought. "I'm more of a chocolate girl."

"Chocolates, eh?" Nott said, chortling. Draco frowned again. What was so funny about a conversation involving chocolates? We're they drunk, or something?

"He's _pathetic_." Draco whispered to Blaise, while rolling his eyes at Theo.

"_You're_ pathetic." Blaise grumbled, rolling his eyes at Draco.

The blonde was about to retaliate with another threat, but movement from where the couple -Draco flinched in disgust- sat made him turn his head towards them. He saw that they were standing up, and he pulled out a vial from his robes.

"Drink this." He told Blaise.

Blaise held up the potion to his nose, wafting it before recoiling from the putrid smell. "Polyjuice, Drake? Really?"

"i don't see why not." Draco shrugged. "It's the perfect disguise, no one would suspect us if you drink that."

"But why do i have to drink it? It smells worse than Crabbe's did."

"Because you owe me." Draco stated, frowning at the Italian. "If you don't or delay us any longer I'm going to tell Snape that you copied off my work. That's worth about two weeks of cleaning duty. Now, drink up."

Blaise frowned at him, but conceded anyway. What's an hour being polyjuiced to two weeks cleaning anyway, right?

Wrong.

When Blaise opened his eyes, he found that he had shrunk a foot smaller. Draco cast another charm at him, before smiling cheekily at Blaise. Frowning at Draco, he stood up straighter, but then noticed his fingers. Slender, pale, painted fingers.

"What-" he began to say, but then stopped abruptly as he heard the high-pitch drawl. His eyes widened, as suspicion crept up on him. He narrowed his eyes at the smirking blonde, as he slowly looked down.

Merlin, he had _boobs_.

"I'm a girl!" He all but screeched in a high-pitched whine, and Draco let out a snort. "Malfoy I am going to kill you for this!"

"Yeah, yeah." Draco said, waving his hand dismissively, grabbing Blaise, who was now a very pretty blue-eyed blonde, out of the clump of bushes and onto the road. A few of the students raised their eyes at them, but Draco paid them no mind, struggling to spot Nott and Granger. "You can do that later. We have to catch up to them first!"

"Sometimes, I wonder why I call you my best friend." Blaise said indignantly as he allowed Draco to lead him off to Honeydukes, where the latter had spotted their targets.

"It's because I allow you to copy off me and give you sweets." Draco answered, whispering in his ear as they neared the sweet shop. For any onlookers, they looked like a charming couple, despite the rather indifferent lady. "Now, play along or I'll stop mother from sending me those cupcakes you like."

"But your elves' red velvet is heavenly!" Blaise protested, but smiled a sickeningly sweet smile to Draco to show that he was cooperating. "I won't be able to get them anywhere else!"

"Exactly. Now, cooperate." Draco whispered in Blaise's ear threateningly again.

"Fine, dear." Blaise whispered back, with twice as much venom. The Italian was uncomfortable, to say the least. The clothing that the blonde had transfigured for him was skin tight. He could barely breathe. And heels should have been under the group of 'torture devices' not 'footwear'. Plus, this girl's breasts were the size of melons. They jiggled everytime he so much as moved! "You better give me a year's supply of those cupcakes after this."

"You'll get two, if we manage to go through with my plan successfully." Draco beamed, and Blaise heard the girl behind him swoon.

"And what's the plan, exactly?" Blaise said, smiling brightly back. And the guy walking behind them ran into a lamp post.

"We're going to steal Granger away."

"_Steal_?" Blaise said, skeptical. He really had to make an appointment for Draco to see a psychiatrist. "And what do you mean by that, pray tell?"

"I mean it exactly as I said." Draco said calmly, opening the shop door and escorting Blaise inside. "Nott's going to have his date cut short. You're going to distract Nott while I distract Granger."

"And we're doing this because?" Blaise said, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"We're saving Theo from involvement with Granger slytherins look out for fellow Slytherins, right?" Draco said, tweaking his reasoning slightly for his polyjuiced friend.

"Keep telling yourself that." Blaise mumbled incoherently, and Draco didn't hear. He had been putting up with the blonde's bullshit about Granger since his first year. The Italian knew that the Malfoy heir wasn't adverse to something even as lowly as stalking and playing dirty when it came to the brunette bookworm. Merlin only knows what happened to the other boys who had the '_audacity and stupidity to like the bookworm_', Draco's words, not his. The onoy boy he had been unable to successfully distract (read as: bribe, coerced, extorted) was the Weasley boy, but only because he was thicker than sludge.

Draco started plotting immediately. There was no guarantee that Nott would relinquish his hold on Granger, even with Blaise there to distract the living daylights out of him. He knew that the hairbrush Merielle (French pureblood his parents tried to get him to like last summer) left when their family had stayed at the manor who have some use.

He spotted them at the corner, laughing and goofing off together. When Theo went up and placed a chocolate candy on the brunette's mouth, a flash of rage and something else went inside Draco. How dare he act sweet with Granger? No one was supposed to act sweet with Granger.

Before he knew it, he was walking up to them, dragging Blaise with him and breaking up their little love fest.

He shuddered at the thought.

"Nott, Granger." He said, pasting on a fake smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Malfoy," they greeted, happy faces giving him grins. He frowned.

"I thought you didn't want to go to Hogsmeade." Hermione asked, referring to their conversation before.

"I didn't," he said gruffly, "But I had to escort this beautiful maiden around."

He gestured at Blaise. Hermione smiled at his friend and said, "Hi, I believe we haven't met before, I'm Hermione. You must be?"

Blaise gave her a sugary smile (after Draco poked him with his wand) and said, "I'm Bla-"

"Blair Zabineau." Draco said, cutting him off. "She's from France,"

Then, Blaise did the unthinkable. He stepped up and _hugged_ Granger! The italian smirked at him, before releasing the surprised brunette. Draco was going to _ban_ red velvet from ever being made by his elves.

"My, I can't believe I'm meeting you!" Blaise said with fake enthusiasm, holding the bookworm at arms length. "_The_ Hermione Granger! You are as pretty as they say!"

Hermione blushed, "You look beautiful yourself!"

"Don't be silly, dear. You got me beat in that department, this you man must be a lucky man." Blaise gushed. Draco frowned at Blaise.

"Oh, Theo? No! We're just friends." Hermione said before Theo could put a word in. Draco smirked.

"Oh, pity. You look absolutely _cute_ together!" Blaise said, sighing dramatically. Draco internally noted that he was going to feed him his balls when they were done with the plan. "I heard that you're also quite intelligent. Your internship with Gringotts on different minerals was quite famous. I can't believe the properties that you discovered!"

"My, I've never heard that you got accepted on that internship, Granger. And you've worked on silver, too. What a very Slytherin thing to do." Draco said, wondering how Blaise knew and planning to extort information from him later, all while trying to hide his amazement at someone so young getting that particular highly sought out internship.

"Oh, shut up, you." Blaise mocked cooed before Granger let out a scathing retort. "Sometimes, he goes on and on about silver and Green, but he's actually quite allergic to silver."

"That's because my body recognizes that it isn't the best mineral-wise. Platinum is better."

Blaise just laughed as he interlocked their hands, moving on to a new topic. Something about magical creature slavery.

Draco fumed. If Blaise wasn't going to get his filthy hands off her, he would blow a casket. Wasn't the whole point of this intervention to save their slytherin comrade from Granger's clutches? He cast a legilimens on the Italian, and told him just that.

_'I'm serving my purpose, right? We're here to stop their little date? I'm just following your orders,"_ Blaise thought to him cheekily, as he continued to chat up Granger.

_'Yes, but I'm the one who's supposed to distract Granger! Your job was to flirt with Nott or whatever it is blonde bimbos do to attract a bloke's attention.'_ Draco projected, but Blaise just smirked.

"Blair, we really should be going." Draco said through gritted teeth.

"But Draco, Hermione and I are still discussing House Elf Rights!" Blaise said out loud, while he projected, _'Go distract Nott, I thought that this was your plan?'._

Draco scowled at them, but he turned towards Nott, giving him an exasperated look, saying, "Females."

Nott just smiled and chuckled. But his eyes never left Granger, "Nah, it's alright, they look adorable when they act like that."

Hermione, hearing this, turned twenty different shades of red and stammered a reply to Blaise. How dare Nott? Making Granger flustered like that? Didn't he have any decency? Draco was the only one allowed to rile her up, in the negative sense, of course. He did not take kindly on Nott making moves on his Head Girl. Wait, _what_? _His_? He probably got confunded by some idiot when they were out walking on the streets.

When he talked about this distraction plan, he had envisioned it as him, whisking away Granger from Nott and Blaise distracting their fellow Slytherin until the polyjuice wore off and he turned back to himself. Where he Italian would preferably beat Theo up until he knocked some sense into the idiotic bastard.

"It's almost time for lunch, would you guys like to join us?" Hermione asked, arms linked with Blaise's and a happy smile adorning her features. Figures that talking about house elf liberation fronts could make her this happy.

Wait. Lunch. Draco almost forgot. The polyjuice was wearing off and he hadn't brought a spare since he thought that the who spirit-Granger-away plan would take less than fifteen minutes. They had to go, or Blaise would transform into his less delectable state and Granger was going to start asking questions if that happened.

"We'd love to, but we're meeting with Blaise in _five minutes_." Draco said, enunciating the five minutes slowly so Blaise would get the idea. Blaise's eyes widened as he untangled himself from Hermione.

"Bye Hermione, it was lovely meeting you. You too, Theo."

"Bye Blair," Hermione said, smiling and waving.

Draco dragged the Italian out of the shop and into a dark alley. As much as it pained Draco to leave the bookworm with the snake, he didn't have a choice.  
He'd just come up with another plan later.

Maybe he could just kidnap her.

That would be easier.

* * *

_November 9_

He woke up with a head ache.

And a back ache, and his leg sore and his upper limbs like jelly.

What had he gotten himself into this time? He asked himself as he groaned, not quite opening his eyes because movement made his head ache go up a notch in the pain scale.

He remembered vague flashes. Flying around the Quidditch stadium, scoffing at the lame attempts Hufflepuff did to get the Quaffle from his fellow Slytherins, seeing the snitch. Diving for the snitch. Getting hit by a bludger. Salazar, so that was why he felt like his insides had splintered. He fell off his broom.

That's right, the great Draco Malfoy _fell_ of his broom.

He groaned at the thought. His reputation was probably flushed into ten different toilet bowls by now.

"You're awake." A voice drifted from beside him, he tried to move his head towards the sound, but the pain almost rendered him unconscious.

"I feel like I got clobbered by a troll." He complained loudly, wishing for the mediwitch to come to his aid already. "Where's madame Pomfrey? I want pain potions."

"She's out giving her order list of potions to professor Snape. And ingesting a pain potion would slow down the effects of skelegrow, you know." The voice said. He'd know that know-it-all tone anywhere.

"Granger?" He asked hoarsely, opening his eyes to the familiar ceiling of the hospital wing. "What are you doing here?"

"I got hit by your broomstick and broke my arm." She said curtly, and he imagined her frowning at the thought. Which made him guffaw. "Of course, after you did that spectacular fall."

He stopped laughing. He heard her smugness, but was there also a hint of worry there? He decided to focus on the worry. "_Worried_ about me, were you?" He asked her cheekily.

"Of course I was." She huffed, but then her tone changed, light and playful as she said, "Who would I get to bully the underclassmen into following the rules if you died a horrible death?"

"I'm glad my bullying skills are being put into good use." Draco chuckled. "But you've got to admit that it's my looks that gets them doing what I want."

"Yeah, if you mean that you scare them by your hideousness. Then, yes."

"Come on Granger, you've got to admit that you find me attractive." He said, putting as much arrogance as he could into his voice.

"You're right between flobberworms and skrewts in my scale of attractiveness." He heard her snort. Oddly, he was slightly disappointed at this. Bugger, he really did get hit hard by that bludger.

"I hate you."

"As I hate you."

"Did we really just have a conversation that had no trace of malice in it?" He asked, slightly dumbfounded.

"I believe we did." Hermione said, chuckling slightly. "Finally. After one truce and two attempts at friendship,"

"Yeah." He breathed out, chuckling. Not quite believing how natural it was; talking to her. Both of them were sober, and he wasn't working on to advance the halfblood tyrant's mission. He rather liked it this way. Nothing was forced. It was refreshing.

"I'd never thought I'd see the day." Draco chuckled. "My ancestors must be rolling in their graves."

Hermione let out a peal of laughter at this. And he found himself laughing too. Her laugh was contagious, and it made him feel like all the good in the world had multiplied tenfold. Two months ago, he wouldn't be caught dead smiling with her, but now, he was full on lauhing with the muggleborn. He couldn't even think of her as a mudblood anymore, not after seeing her blood and her covering up for him. It was all too surreal, and his joke wasn't even that funny, but hearing her laugh made him want to laugh too, and his peals of delighted laughter increased.

He didn't know that it felt this good to laugh.

But of course, as with all great things in the world, a weasel just had to destroy it.

"_You_!" The redhead fumed, abruptly ending their laughing spell. Tension suddenly coated the air as the youngest weasel turned as red as his hair. "You _traitor_! First, Nott, then you're acting like you're best mates with Malfoy?"

"Ron," hermione said, voice aghast. And despite the pain, Draco turned his head to look at her. She was shocked, vulnerable under her so called best-friend's intense glare. "What are you talking a-"

"You know what I'm talking about! You went to Hogsmeade with Nott! You didn't tell us." Weasley huffed, frowning at the brunette. "And now you're _consorting_ with the enemy!"

"Ron, I didn't tell you about Theo because I didn't think that it was that important. How did you even find out? You weren't even at hogsmeade!"

Draco smirked at the thought that she didn't find Nott important. Ha, take that, you bumbling bastard snake. Before he knew it, he was grinning from ear to ear, an action which caught the redhead's eye.

"And you, you slimy Slytherin snake! How dare you-"

"What? Talk to her? I don't believe that you're the one who decides who she does or does not talk to." He said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow imperiously.

"Stay away from her! She's ten times better than you'll even be!"

"And I'm a hundred times better that you. So she's-"

"_She_, is right here." Hermione snapped, and Draco shifted his gaze towards her. She sent him a you're-not-helping glare and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Ronald, stop acting like a child."

"You're taking _his_ side over _mine_?" The redhead bellowed incredulously, going deeper shade of red.

"No, I-"

"Yes, you are!" The redhead screamed, cutting her off. "You did this before and you're doing it again! You're a _traitor_! And you're probably _whoring_ around what with the likes of them.

There was silence, and the tension was more than palpable.

Draco was feeling furious. How dare he say that? And to his best friend, of all people! He shifted his fiery gaze, glaring at him. If looks could kill. The weasel would be dead by now.

"Get _out_." He hissed, two words piercing the silence.

"You have no right to order me around, you-"

"_Get out, Weasley_." They both turned at the brunette, surprised at her sharp tone. It was icy, and Draco had only ever heard it once before; on the day that she punched him in third year.

"Get out," she said sharply, "You're lucky that I don't have my wand right now, because if I did, I would hex you into the next year."

With that, the weasel turned to leave, sending her one last glare.

And she began to _cry_.

Rage began to encompass Draco. How dare that poor weasel make his bookworm cry? Wait, what? His? That's the second time he slipped like that. But it doesn't matter. No one, except him, was allowed to do that! The Weasley would pay. Draco envisioned ripping him to shreds a thousand and one times, but Hermione's sobs interrupted his fury. He turned towards her and noticed that she was shaking.

Damn, Weasley.

Slowly, Draco got up, and painfully sat on the chair between their bed. Closer, but not that close.

"You know, Granger, you should have hexed him into oblivion. I would have helped you bury the dead body, if it came to that. Father knows a lot of people at the Ministry who could sort out the mess." Draco mumbled, sitting stiffly. Because of the pain in his limbs and head but mainly because it was uncomfortable, trying to comfort a crying woman. Especially a crying Granger. They should fight this war with crying, emotionally unstable women thrown at the death eaters. Draco was sure thay many of them would balk at the sight of tears. He never had, before though-had the urge to comfort. Usually, when someone cried, he left them alone. But he couldn't leave her alone. Something in him made him do it. "I hate the guy as much as you do. Maybe we could throw a party after we throw his body into the lake."

Hermione sniffled, crossing her arms indignantly. "Ron is just mad because-"

"Oh, stop defending that arse." Draco said, rolling his eyes as he reached for a glass of water on his bedside. "He has no right to shout at you. Last time I heard,I was the only one that had that privilege. He's not your arch enemy, for heaven's sake. The git's supposed to be your bloody _boyfriend_."

"He's not my boyfriend. It's just this once. Ron's stressed. I'm sure that he doesn't mean it."

"Stress doesn't excuse that kind of behavior, especially from someone who's supposed to be winning you over, and don't give me that best friend crap, everyone knows he's been trying to get into your pants since sixth year. He's smitten about you. I thought you shared the sentiments."

Hermione snorted. "No. I love Ron." Draco felt a pang of _jealousy_? No. Impossible, must be one of those wrackspurts Loony Lovegood keeps talking about. "But not like that. Probably never like that. He's just jealous, that's all, I'm sure he'll apolo-""

"Cut the crap, Granger." Draco cut her off. "Weasley is obviously a jerk. Any guy who makes you cry and does nothing about it isn't worth your tears. He's an arse, and you don't deserve him."

"Wow, _classic_, coming from the arsehole who sends me multiple hexes daily and made me cry for I don't know, the past seven years of my life! I'm not going to dump a friend just because he has anger issues! We can work on that! I love him! And love is about sacrifices, understanding, and not giving up when all you want to do is punch the other person in the face! Just because you have no faith whatsoever, it doesn't mean that other people don't! Stop preaching about Ron when you have nothing to show that you're better than him!"

"Woah, Granger, don't get your knickers in a twist!" Draco snapped, glaring at the fuming brunette. "I wasn't exactly preaching, you know. All I was saying was - and this stays between you and me, mind you, I would say that the meds are the ones talking if you ever let this spill- that you deserve better. You shouldn't have to let him walk all over you just because you think that letting him do so is loving him! It's not, Granger! Love isn't like that! Are you really that naive? Are you really that forgiving? Stop deluding yourself! Wake up, why don't you!"

"I'm not letting him walk all over me." Hermione hissed. "What do you know about love, anyway? Why are you so concerned about me and Ron anyway? As far as I know, our truce, this... Friendship, doesn't include this."

Draco shrugged, his angry expression fading, replaced by one of his signature smirks, "I know enough. Ckntrary to popular belief, I've seen it before. Felt it, even. Despite my father being a complete slave to that bastard now, once upon a time, he loved my mother. And I'm trying to get you to see reason because don't like it. You and him. And because, I've told you before. I'm the only one allowed to shout at you."

"God, you're impossible!" Hermione said, throwing her hands up and giving him one of her signature glares. Then her expression turned soft. "Are you trying to comfort me?"

"No," he scoffed, but as always, she saw right through him.

"You _are_, aren't _you_?" She said, giving him a watery smile, and he felt unexplainable relief. Shouldn't he make her cry more? That was his purpose in life, right? To make her suffer. But why did it feel so good, getting her to give him a smile?

He really was going bonkers.

"You're _delusional_." He said, scoffing as he took another sip of water.

"Thank you." She said, her smile getting brighter.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He said, trying to ignore the happy feelings bubbling inside him. Malfoys don't do happy. All he wanted to do now is to get away from her. As far and as fast as he can. To put some distance between him and the person that made him go all hufflepuff.

But he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave.

Because of the mission, of course.

But somewhere, deep down, he knew that he had a different agenda. He just didn't want to know just yet.

So when he turned to her, he didn't smile back like he wanted to. Instead, he smirked.

"So, when do we murder the weasel?"

* * *

**A/n: hi guys, I want to put up a chapter that's in another character's pov during the time after Hermione's death. The said person would describe/see in his/her own pov how draco deteriorated after losing Hermione, the problem is, I can't decide which charscter to use. My choices are: Blaise/Luna, Harry/Ginny, Theo or Narcissa, and I'm asking you, lovely readers, to vote/tell me your input. Just pm me or review your choice! :) thank you!**


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